#it's one second of good feelings before truck of emotions

[mixterglacia]

CONTENT WARNING: Vivziepop Critical/ Stolitz Critical below the cut.

This episode made me incredibly angry, so it's not going to be as well structured as I try to manage.

TL;DR The pacing and tone was a horrible mess, and this should have been split into at least two episodes to pull this off.

To start, we prove in the first five minutes how little these two actually know each other. They're surprised by very simple things and I don't like that. It tells me that neither of them, but especially Stolas, EVER asked about the other's interests. Cool, that's good to know I was right about that the whole time.

Blitz is WILDLY out of character in the bulk of this episode. I LOATHE how he's waiting on Stolas hand and foot. If we're being honest, he'd probably just say "figure it out yourself" and focus on his life, business, and daughter. Why are we always having to baby Stolas' feelings? It feels like he's the only one allowed to actually be doted on. (In a non-humorous way.)

And now he remembers Via? Sure, just run off without thinking about your family. You have never let that stop you before. And now Stella is being cartoonishly evil in front of her daughter? We've never had it proven that she's a bad mother. In fact, from what Via states later, that's the case! I really think they have no idea on how to be subtle with her.

In a similar vein to the moment with Blitz watching the family later. You didn't need to tell us who he was imagining in that window. The moment worked without you punching it down our throats.

Likewise with Millie's pregnancy. I wish they'd left that as an open thread, rather than taking time to fully confirm it. Like maybe all the way up to the point where she went into the bathroom and left looking a little fucked up? That way it can be an engaging thing to return to in S3.

The non-drama parts of the episode (especially the first five minutes) dragged HARD. They gutted any emotional moments and just felt like padding for the runtime.

I am so annoyed at the way this show is trying to lessen what Stolas did.

HE CHEATED ON HIS WIFE. HE DESTROYED HIS FAMILY. HE ABANDONED HIS DAUGHTER. HE IS A TERRIBLE MAN WHO GETS EVERYTHING HE WANTS BECAUSE THE SHOW BABIES HIM.

This is not some cute little quirk. His wife was never implied to cheat on him first. She was a bitch, but she didn't do anything to deserve this. I can't stress enough that if you showed her playing around too, it would immediately solve most of the hypocrisy with this.

Trying to weasel around that by Blitz trying to say cheating really so bad is fucking gross. It's not like they had an open relationship and Stella got jealous. Stolas is a slimeball. He doesn't deserve Blitz. He doesn't deserve Via.

He hasn't earned any of this.

While it came out of nowhere, the Via song is STELLAR. As a product of divorce, she owes her father nothing. She deserves to feel so hurt and betrayed.

"My tears won't fall upon your shoulder...I'll just get older and you'll only know my name." Hit me like a truck.

So imagine my outrage when we aren't allowed to sit and think about her feelings for more than a few seconds after the song. We aren't allowed to focus on her pain. If they staged a sequence between the number and her finding her dad's pills, I think it would work better.

Or even uploading the song by itself. But no. You have to CONSTANTLY remind us to feel bad for the stupid fucking owl. Feel bad because he's depressed. Feel bad because he's trapped in the same loveless marriage as his wife. But don't feel bad for her because she's a bitch.

Fuck. Off.

My dad was manic depressive, that doesn't mean he got to treat our family the way he did. Stolas didn't even think about her before throwing his life away over his booty call.

This show has so much potential that it just squanders. There are two different series being forced together and it doesn't work. You have the comedy series shoved into the same sweater as the soap opera. They aren't mutually exclusive, but truly the team seems incapable of making this work.

I'm done.

This isn't even fun to critique anymore.

If folks want my opinions on future Helluva Boss content, you'll have to directly ask me to watch the piece in question. I'm still going to give S2 of Hotel a shot, but as far as this?

I'm throwing in the towel. Of the two, I was so excited for Helluva. I loved the characters, I loved the idea, and I truly loved the first couple episodes.

But that show doesn't exist anymore.

Once again, I'm going to take a moment to remind you all:

You are allowed to love this series. I am just a dude on the internet. I am not trying to change your mind. I am not trying to ruin your fun. If you love it, that's awesome. I am so happy you found something that sings to your soul.

Don't let me harsh your buzz. Okay?

[lightcreators]

Everything turned ironic. How unable he had been to enter inside his own TARDIS for twelve years, admiring his old girl from an distanced gaze, unable to move close --- blaming internally himself about everything who could have been possible since his recent travels, but hadn't been able to bring any kind of comfort somewhere. How he did no real difference in middle of an different Japan, where he try to help Primavera's Family to honoring customs of their country, and memory of an captain Butler would haunt him forever --- He could have saved him from what happened with the major Kaburaya … Retroactively this had always been his only chance to save him. Not him losing his sister. Not him be trapped by this major and be emotionally imprisoned, constantly motorized, unable to prevent anyone --- He wasn't sure, considering how much he missed another Philip Butler sharing the name, how he could be able to bring an possible parternship between them … In the first place, he never mean to fall inside that alternative timeline. In the first place, he never had the guts to assuming responsabilities of that world of darkness. In the first place, he refused to actively be part of that world … Forgotten he did before … and was unsure if he could do it again. Then … there had been these thirty years of hoping something different for the island of Rokkenjima. Ultimate naivety of an Time Lord mind who thought that could bring comfort somewhere …

Thinking over Phil were more comforting thoughts. Inevitability of his despair had been premeditated : for twelve years, he had hanged towards an positive influence over the last Ushiromiya he knew about, when last survivor outside him had die … and without remembering couple of circumstances had been experienced before … he won't probably be there now. Sometimes, he loved recollecting to himself there will be no Time Lords left --- nevertheless, there was the presence of the Master somewhere … where confusion about his survival generated an impossibility to react normally. The Master sounded like an presented dream, where he wasn't even sure what to believe on the Year Who Never Was. He seemed dead for too long … but wasn't ? How he was even supposed to travel with someone where he didn't know where he was standing himself ? How he could be a reassuring presence where he cannot land on London without be wrapped in regrets ? How he could be someone reliable when he didn't even trust his memory ? Despite his long existence, he never took one moment to writing book of his own story --- fragmented remembrances inside another dimension brought him one portion of an perspective. Besides, his existence remained another experience in middle of an particular hell : the future wasn't kind and protection of the past were robbed inside their mutual co-existence. Annoyance also reflected someday another incarnation might be possible.

He had been sensing slight change in the TARDIS where usual hum transformed inside an alarming sound. It only tasted temporary. At this point, the TARDIS crossing any others universes or catching up people coming from another dimension were common … Though, on one boy, for little he had been visited briefly by the main concerned, it never acted that way, for always be everywhere already and searching best compromise of circumstances. Mh, could be best friend coming from his universe ? He attempted reassurance about his casual annoyance. Cannot be the Master. As far he knew, the Master was dealing with the previous self who had been manipulating everything, the Featherine of the past, the original Featherine --- the one he owned that kind of future … as calmness wasn't possible at merely remembrance of his cricketer self. Which was once more ironic. That 'personality' screamed for desire to get everything she had on her past, and acted as that unexplainable 'she'.

Intenting to just playing around the console room as for some mechanical repair, he didn't expected to find an strange woman suffering connection between the two universes. He just … sensed it at the second. She wasn't from here --- and for a hot second, decomposure of his features expressed an silenced common 'what' coming from that incarnation. Nevertheless, there was no more excitement and joyful features as before. Neverteless, gravity of his expression staring at her with curiosity. Did they met before ? He sended there were familiar for some reason … but as far he knew, they never met each other. Acknowledgement of that name Doctor created an surprise. Even if on his own end, he didn't remembering her --- yet --- they crossed path before … If some boy could bring her down his face, supposition of an good opportunity to changing his thoughts were presented in front of him. Companions were fully absent of his TARDIS for time being. Last unofficial one, sort of speak, for be mostly inside Featherine's care, would simply want to go inside one place inside one date if she could space time travelling, and both of them needed to move on of what happened --- he could offer her an reassuring landscape of possibilities in middle of explorations of theories and explorations inside higher spheres, be an spiritual guide understanding her perspective and her needs … but he cannot act as the Doctor with her, cannot pretending and exposing how much he knew her pain for be tourmented with the truth… Besides, temptation remained to changing fate to his old companions. Gain a second change with Martha. Hoping too much for his first companion … Eyeing futures ones without knowing how management were made since it was coming from another of his self. Who are you ? was another silenced question, most natural able to leaving his lips. Requesting that where himself didn't knew it, where it was condensation of his quest to found out what was the Golden Witch, where truth of an chessboard was kept inside his memories, would be an dramatic reflection to recognized. ❝ Did we met before ? ❞ Instead, such sentence was asked. Anticiapting already an positive answer. Inside quiet land of the location he had been settled his TARDIS, interferences were pondered indoors. Struggle between not enter at all inside his TARDIS or spend time inside a place where he might have regret daily damaged further his mind, unsure how to be react anymore. How he could truly becoming the Doctor again. How he could act without damages as a witch.

▸▸ [ @lightcreators || tenth doctor & eden || plotted starter ]

─「エデン」─  it almost felt like she was forcefully pulled through a rift in time and space, the sensation of being wrenched from the CRACK of the universe itself rippled through her. the TRAILBLAZER had experienced different kind of sudden tugs and yanks in her years of being both a time and interstellar traveler. the shove of the stellaron right into her form, her consciousness dropping through the endless void when she drew the gaze of aeon of destruction, the time jump of the astral express, the soaring of the TARDIS —

                that last part was unexpected. she hadn't thought about the old girl for quite some time, hadn't she ? a sense of nostalgia wafted through her for a split second when she could sense a presence approaching her. or were they simply lingering nearby ? she couldn't tell anymore. her head was hung low, gloved hand placed over her temple, right at the throbbing headache that felt like it was splitting her head into two. she didn't see who it was, nor did she see the face of the person. no, she didn't have anything, only hearing an echo of footsteps coming closer. yet, even in her fogged up mind, she felt that sense of familiarity. the aura that radiated from this person, it brought about a feeling of SAFETY, of ... home. and words came from her lips even before she realized it. it was like a reflex. even after all these years, she still associated this feeling of trust and comfort with a single name.

                " ... doctor ... ? "

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - EIGHT

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion.

MASTERLIST

Topper prided himself in keeping out of people’s business.

He hadn’t noticed anything was off with you on his own, he wouldn’t have; he didn’t do the whole “emotional radar” thing.

But Rafe had practically cornered him, demanding he figure out what was going on with you.

You were his cousin, after all. 

That didn’t stop the way his stomach twisted from thinking about lying to you, or how every part of him had always silently rooted for you and Rafe. He’d loved seeing you two together. You were a mess most days, for years, sure, but it was the kind of mess that made sense in a way, and Topper couldn’t help but admire it.

You were like fire and gasoline.

But that was before the break-up, before everything got fucked.

Now, you were just… distant. He never knew how to approach you without feeling like he was crossing a line, but the way you’d passed out on Rafe at the beach had him worrying in a way that was more personal than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t a thinker, not really, he liked simple things: good waves, cold beer, and not getting roped into drama.

But there he was, standing outside your door with Korean fried chicken. He didn’t do feelings, and he didn’t do heavy conversations. Rafe owed him big for this. The conversation had been good, even when you started talking about Sarah and Ruthie. 

Topper was all in—laughing along, throwing in a dumb joke here and there, the usual. It felt nice, like when you were kids, sneaking your dad’s beers and pretending you weren’t gonna get caught.

But then he had to go and ruin it by asking if you were okay.

You went all stiff, then weirdly far away, laughing it off like he’d just asked you to explain calculus or something. You mumbled something about being fine and then bolted to the bathroom before he could even follow up with his usual Topper-brand wisdom.

He sat there, feeling uncomfortable, which wasn’t a thing he usually did. You were acting off, and it was messing with him more than he wanted to admit.

Finally, he decided he needed to move, so he got up to grab some water. Except, as he walked past the counter, his hip caught a pile of your mail, and an envelope went sliding to the floor.

“Crap,” he muttered, crouching to grab it. It was just some random envelope, but there was a phone number written on the front in messy blue ink.

Topper didn’t think about it—because thinking wasn’t really his strong suit—he just whipped out his phone and typed it in. Curiosity, man. It got him every time.

He hit call. He wasn’t trying to snoop or anything. It was just one of those things you do on autopilot, right? Call a number just to see who answers? Except this time, someone did answer.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then:

“Women’s Health Center, how can I help you?”

His brain short-circuited, full-on panic mode. He stared at the phone like it had grown a second screen, then frantically hit the hang-up button just as the bathroom door creaked open.

You were back.

Topper, sweating for no reason, slapped the envelope back on the counter like it was about to explode and turned to you with a smile that definitely didn’t match his pounding heart.

He got out of there as soon as possible, as he drove to meet Rafe, the whole thing was still playing on a loop in his head. That phone number, the voice on the other end of the line, the way you’d acted when he’d asked if you were okay—he couldn’t stop trying to force the pieces into place.

Something was going on, he wasn't sure what, and he wasn’t exactly the guy you went to for deep insights, but he felt something was up.

When he pulled into Tanyhill, he spotted Rafe leaning against his truck, scrolling through his phone with that permanent scowl he seemed to have these days. He barely had the car in park before Rafe was pushing off the truck and heading his way.

He climbed out, doing his best to act normal—which, for him, meant cracking the same goofy grin he always did. His mind was still spinning with a dozen half-formed thoughts about that phone call, that clinic, and how the the fuck he might fit into all of it. 

The only thing he knew for sure was that Rafe knowing could be catastrophic. Like, meteor-hits-earth catastrophic.

“You gotta chill,” Topper said, slamming his car door shut and giving Rafe a once-over. “Why do you look like you’re about to punch somebody?”

Rafe just glared, shoving his phone in his pocket. “What’d you find out?”

He blinked, thrown by how fast he cut to the point. “Nice to see you, too. Second, what makes you think I found out anything?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Top. Did you figure it out or not?”

“Yeah, I figured it out,” Topper shot back, crossing his arms. “But why the hell did you make me go through all this work if you already know what’s going on?”

Rafe shrugged, leaning back against the truck like this was all just some casual conversation. “Didn’t think you’d actually get it, to be honest.”

“Bro, I’m not that stupid. How did you get to the bottom of this shit? I’m still confused as fuck over here.”

Rafe’s mouth twitched like he was deciding whether to smirk or yell, hesettled on neither. “She passed out on me, remember?”

“So?” Topper shot back, frowning. “I’ve seen you pass out for, like, way less.”

“It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a hangover or heat stroke, it was different. And she’s been weird lately, avoiding everyone.” Rafe leaned back against his truck, arms crossed, talking fast. “The hospital did blood work.”

Topper, who’d been zoning out halfway through his little doctor act, suddenly perked up.

“Wow,” he mused, dragging the word out. “Okay. So, how’d you take the news? I mean, shit, you look pretty calm for once. Didn’t think that was in your wheelhouse."

Rafe frowned, his sharp blue eyes narrowing, the crease between his brows deepening like it always did when he thought someone was wasting his time. 

"The fuck are you talking about?”

Topper shrugged like this was totally normal. “I just expected you to, like…freak out or somethin'. Throw a punch, maybe.”

“Throw a punch about what?” Rafe snapped.

“About—” Topper paused, squinting at Rafe like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Wait. What are you supposed to do?”

Rafe’s hand twitched toward his jaw, fingers brushing over the stubble there, a telltale sign that he was gearing up to lose patience. He didn’t wait for Topper to answer before shaking his head, the movement quick and irritated. 

“Don’t do that, man,” he added, pointing a finger “I’ll help her figure it out. What else can I do?”

Topper tilted his head, genuinely impressed. “Damn. You really matured, huh? I mean, good for you.”

“Top, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Rafe demanded, his tone sharp now like he was finally catching on to the fact that they weren’t on the same page.

Topper blinked, “I’m just saying you’re handling it better than I thought. Especially since she’s not—uh, showing yet.”

“Not showing what?”

“…The bump?”

He immediately realized he’d said the wrong thing, or maybe the right thing, but in the wrong tone, with the wrong level of context, and—okay, maybe he should just stop talking. 

Abort mission, abort mission. Topper immediately wanted to crawl into a hole. Dude, shut up, shut up, shut up.

“What the fuck?” Rafe’s voice cracked; his eyes blazing as he stepped closer. “What bump?!”

His laugh fizzled out under Rafe’s glare, it was starting to feel less like “concerned ex-boyfriend” and more like “interrogating cop.” He felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck. 

Cool. Stay cool.

“Wait,” Topper held his hands up, trying to physically stop the situation from spiraling. “What do you think is wrong with her?”

His brain was spinning in a way it wasn’t built for. He was a simple guy—he liked clear problems and easy fixes. But this? This was a category-five disaster, and he was stuck right in the middle of it.

Rafe let out a sharp breath through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair, the small strands sticking up in every direction.

“I think she’s got a fucking infection! Why the hell would I think she’s pregnant?”

Topper hesitated, glancing toward the house like maybe Sarah or Wheezie might miraculously appear to save him. No such luck.

“Well fucking shit,” Topper blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. His heart was pounding, and he was pretty sure he’d just signed his death warrant. “I—I didn’t say she’s pregnant, okay? I found this number, and it was for a women’s health center, and—fuck, man, I’m dead. I’m so dead.”

Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close. “Start talking. Now.”

“I wasn’t snooping, okay? It just—happened. I wasn’t trying to get in her business, but—”

“But what?” Rafe barked. His other hand twitched at his side, curling into a fist before flexing out again, a warning of how close Topper was to eating pavement, but Rafe wasn’t the one he feared right now.

You were going to kill him.

He could already picture the look on your face when you found out—those cold, furious eyes, the way your voice would drop, he was officially dead meat. He gulped, his mouth dry as his brain scrambled for something—anything—that wouldn’t get him killed or disowned.

“You better explain what the fuck you mean by ‘happened,’” Rafe growled, his grip tightening, giving Topper’s collar a shake, just enough to make his point clear.

Topper was done, leaving nothing but pure panic and the faint, distant sound of his voice saying things he definitely shouldn’t. 

“I called the number!” Topper yelped. “I didn’t even mean to, it was—dude, she’s gonna kill me, and I mean that literally. She will.”

“Not if I kill you first,” Rafe shoved him back, his grip finally loosening, his face unreadable now, which was somehow worse than when he’d looked ready to punch him. “You’re telling me you think she’s pregnant? And you didn’t remember to tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t!” Topper said quickly, panic bubbling over. “It’s not like she’s gonna tell me this kind of stuff.”

“Did she say anything to you? Anything about seeing a doctor or being sick?”

Topper shook his head so fast it made him dizzy. “I asked if she was okay, but she just brushed it off and changed the subject.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, both of them staring each other down.

“No, no way. She’s probably… I don’t fucking know, changing her pill or something.”

Topper raised an eyebrow. “Changing her pill?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said quickly, “Or—what else do they do there? Those check-up things. Maybe she’s getting one of those.”

“Uh-huh,” Topper replied, not convinced but also not dumb enough to call him out on it outright. “Sure. Just a… routine check-up?”

“Exactly,” Rafe agreed a little too loud, his tone almost defensive as he started circling again, his hands gesturing wildly. “They don’t just deal with… y'know. They do all kinds of shit. Tests, prescriptions, all that stuff. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Topper scratched the back of his neck, his expression caught between agreement and unease. “I mean, yeah, they do other stuff… but don’t you think—”

“I don’t think anything, there’s nothing to think about. She’s fine. She’s—she’s fine.” He stopped pacing, standing rigid with his hands on his hips, glaring at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“Okay,” Topper started, his tone cautious. “I get that you don’t want to jump to conclusions, but—”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions!” Rafe barked, spinning around “You’re the one making it into something it’s not! She’s not—she wouldn’t—she hasn’t told me anything,” He muttered finally, “And if she’s hiding this… from me…”

He’d never seen Rafe like this—angry, yeah, but there was something else there, either way, it wasn’t good. His glare burned into him, but for the first time, there was hesitation behind it. He wasn’t just mad—he was scared. Topper couldn’t decide if that made him feel better or worse. 

“Holy shit,” Rafe muttered, gripping the side of his truck for balance. His vision going fuzzy as his heart raced like he’d just sprinted a mile. “Holy shit, what if—what if she is?”

“Dude, breathe,” Topper said, stepping closer cautiously like Rafe was a live grenade. “You don’t even—”

“Even if—if—she was, how the hell would that even—” He cut himself off, his face twisting like he couldn’t decide whether to finish the thought or abandon it entirely.

Topper didn’t need him to finish, he understood exactly what Rafe was thinking. The timeline, the breakup, the way everything had gone down between you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he let go of the truck and paced a few steps, his hands on his hips, muttering under his breath. “No. No way. It’s not—she’d tell me, right? She’d fucking tell me.”

Images started flashing through his mind in rapid succession, each one more ridiculous and unhinged than the last. You, standing in some clinic, staring at a test with a blank expression. You, trying to figure out how to tell Rafe.

You, holding a baby—Rafe’s baby—in your arms.

“This doesn’t make any sense. We were careful. She’s just stressed, girls go through shit. Hormones or whatever. Right?”

“You’re asking me? I barely passed bio. I’m not exactly a walking textbook on—” He stopped himself, seeing the look on Rafe’s face. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, okay? But if this is what I think it is, you gotta handle it right. Don’t screw it up more than it already is.”

“And if I don’t handle it right?”

Topper forced a shaky grin, even as his stomach twisted in knots.

“Then I guess I’ll see you in hell, man. Because she’s gonna kill us both.”

Rafe’s hands went to his hips, his thumb brushing the edge of his pocket as he stared past Topper, he was trying to work out an equation that wasn’t adding up.

“She hasn’t said a word to me,” Rafe muttered, “Not at the hospital, not since. And you think…” He trailed off, dragging a hand over his face. 

Topper shifted on his feet, resisting the urge to bolt to the other side of the world.

“I guess, but I swear, it wasn’t on purpose.”

Rafe shot him a look, his brows knitting together, and Topper felt like he was under a microscope. “You called a random number. How does that ‘just happen’?”

He huffed, throwing his hands up. “I was grabbing some water, and her mail fell, and there was this number—I didn’t think! I just… acted.” He groaned, his head falling back as he stared at the sky. “I didn’t mean to put two and two together, but what was I supposed to do? You’re the one who made me go digging in the first place!”

“You really think that’s what’s going on?” Rafe asked finally, his voice quieter.

“You said she’s acting weird, and then there was that number, and…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Do you even understand what this means? If she’s—if there’s a—” He broke off, “I’d have to—Jesus Christ, what would I even do? I’m not—God.”

His hands gripped the edge of the truck bed so hard his knuckles turned white, the veins in his arms standing out as he glared at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“If she didn’t tell me—” His voice was low, quiet in a way that made Topper wince because he knew what came next.

“Maybe just... ask her?”

 “Ask her?” he repeated, his voice disbelieving.

“Yeah, you know,” Topper said, gesturing vaguely. “Talk to her? Maybe find out what’s going on instead of losing your shit over worst-case scenarios?”

Rafe shook his head, “No. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me. She’s... she’s dealing with her own stuff. It’s not my place to push.”

 “Since when do you not push?”

“Since now,” Rafe snapped, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” Rafe interrupted, his voice rising now, the tight restraint unraveling with every word. “If she’s—if she’s going through this, if she’s pregnant, and she didn’t tell me?” He let out a bitter chuckle, “What the fuck does that say? About me.”

Topper opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. This felt like a minefield, and if anyone was good at stepping on the wrong spot, it was him.

Rafe pushed off the truck, he couldn���t physically stay still. His eyes were burning as he raked a hand through his buzzed hair.

“I was—fuck. She thinks what? That I wouldn’t show up for this. She didn’t tell me because she doesn’t think I deserve to know.”

“That’s not true,” Topper said quickly, stepping closer, but Rafe’s empty laugh stopped him.

“Isn’t it?” Rafe’s voice was hollow now, all the fire drained out of him, turning his head slightly, just enough for Topper to see his throat working as he swallowed hard. “What the hell have I ever done to make her think I’d be there? That I’d—” He broke off. “Shit. I wouldn’t blame her. I can't even fucking blame her.”

“You still care about her, right?” Topper pressed, knowing he didn’t have to ask to know the answer.

Rafe’s head snapped up, “She’s the only thing I’ve ever cared about.”

He nodded slowly, “Then prove it.”

The envelope sat exactly where you’d left it, the faintest corner of folded. You froze for a second, your pulse quickening.

No. No way.

It was fine. Fine.

The number wasn’t even labeled—just digits scrawled hastily, you hadn’t touched it in days. Still, you couldn’t stop the tiny seed of panic attaching itself to your chest. There was absolutely no way Topper could’ve seen it, let alone put two and two together.

You exhaled slowly, placing it back on the counter.

He didn’t see it. He couldn’t have seen it.

Then why had he acted so… off? The pale face, the sudden excuse, the jittery energy—it was all so unlike him.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away, a million things could’ve set him off. 

Maybe Ruthie had texted him something awful, or maybe he’d remembered he had to pick up his dry cleaning before the shop closed. Knowing Topper, it was probably something stupid and unrelated to you entirely.

Still, the nagging lingered as you cleaned up the counter and threw away the napkins. You glanced at the envelope one last time, then slid it into a drawer and shut it firmly. Whatever was going on with your cousin, it couldn’t have anything to do with that. It was impossible. And yet…

You sighed, rubbing your temples. 

“Pregnancy brain,” you muttered to yourself. “Making me paranoid over nothing.”

Of course that didn’t stop your heart from jumping every time the drawer creaked, or when you saw anything even remotely similar to that envelope’s color lying around the house for the entire night. Not that he’d ask, of course—Topper wasn’t the confrontational type, especially not with you. But he noticed things. And when he noticed, he worried.

The next morning you sank onto the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. Topper was close, but he wasn’t like Sarah. She had been able to look you in the eye and say, You know I’m here, right? and mean it without any strings attached. Topper, though…

Your fingers itched toward your phone, even though it was stupid to call her so early over this. Still, you needed someone to remind you that you weren’t losing it, that Topper’s weirdness had nothing to do with anything serious.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you found Sarah’s number, pressing the call button. She picked up on the second ring, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You could picture her, sitting in her car or probably stretched out somewhere in Poguelandia with her feet propped up on a table, looking concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just…” You trailed off, fiddling with the edge of a pillow. 

“Topper’s been acting strange. And I think I’m just overthinking it, but it’s making me crazy.”

She made a sound between a hum and a laugh. “So the Topper panic spiral. That’s what we’re dealing with?”

“Basically,” you muttered, trying to keep your tone light. “But this time… He was here last night, and I thought he saw this random piece of paper I had with, you know. A number on it.” You took a shaky breath, embarrassed for how paranoid you sounded. “But he couldn’t have, right? I mean, it was buried under five other things.”

“Okay,” Sarah said slowly, clearly choosing her words. “First, let’s just say that if he did see anything, which he probably didn’t, he wouldn’t assume the worst. He’s your cousin; he knows you don’t tell him everything, and he respects that. Right?”

“Yeah… I guess.” You chewed your lip, feeling a little stupid for even calling her.  “But what if he does put it together, Sarah? I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“He won’t,” she reassured, like she could see right through your anxiety. “And you don’t need to feel bad for wanting to keep this private. You’re allowed to handle it however you need to. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

You exhaled, the knot in your chest loosening a little. She always knew how to talk you down, "Okay,” you murmured, and a shaky laugh slipped out. “Maybe I'm being paranoid.”

“Pregnancy brain,” she teased, and you couldn’t help but smile.

You hung up feeling marginally better.

Sarah had a way of calming you down, but the uneasiness stayed with you, the way it always did when you couldn’t fully explain something.

But the relief was fleeting, by lunchtime, the nagging voice in your head was back. Topper wasn’t malicious, but he did have a habit of talking without thinking, and the last thing you needed was for this to get out before you were ready. Not only was this a huge scandal, but it was your business.

You busied yourself with small tasks—folding laundry, wiping down the counters, pretending that everything was fine. It wasn’t until almost noon that your phone rang. The hospital’s number flashed on the screen, and your stomach dropped.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Miss Thornton?” the voice on the other end asked politely, too polite for comfort.

“This is she."

“This is Linda from the hospital. I’m calling about your recent bloodwork. We had a bit of an issue with our system, and unfortunately, there was a delay in getting back to you. We also lost some patient information temporarily—”

“Wait, what?” you interrupted, not liking where this was going, “What do you mean you lost information?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” Linda said quickly, as if that would make you feel better. “We managed to recover most of it, but in the meantime, we had to rely on emergency contact information to reach out. Dr. Harris called yours last night.”

Your breath caught. “Called... my emergency contact?”

“Yes.”

“Sarah Cameron? She didn’t tell me someone called.”

“She’s not listed as your emergency contact in our system, Rafe Cameron is. It might be an older record?”

Fuck.

Your heart was in your throat. “What... what did he tell him?”

“He only left a generic message asking for you to follow up about your bloodwork. Nothing specific.”

“Nothing specific,” you repeated, more to yourself than to her. Relief and panic warred within you. If Rafe knew, he’d already be there, the night before, demanding answers. Right?

“We need you to come back in. It’s possible you may have an infection, and we need to run a few more tests.”

You didn’t even hear the rest of her explanation.

Your fingers felt numb as you mumbled something that vaguely resembled agreement and hung up.

Infection, that was what she’d said. That was all it was. Not… not anything else. If it were anything else, they wouldn’t have just called—they’d have told Rafe.

“Stop,” you muttered aloud, shaking your head. “Stop spiraling.”

But your brain wouldn’t listen.

“Generic message,” Linda had said, but did it sound generic? What did he think when he got it? Had he laughed it off, or was he running his stupid pristine bedroom, piecing together clues you hadn’t even realized you’d left?

You didn’t want to text Sarah again.

You could imagine her smirking, “I told you, he’s not going to magically grow psychic overnight.” Yeah, sure, but this was Rafe.

He didn’t need magic. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on Sarah’s voice in your head. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Except it didn’t feel like that. You hadn’t thought about Rafe as your emergency contact in months, hadn’t needed to. 

You sank into the couch, hugging your knees to your chest.

“This is so stupid,” you muttered, but your voice didn’t make it feel any less real. You weren’t even sure what you were spiraling over anymore. The envelope? The hospital? The baby?

“Okay,” you said out loud. “Okay, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

The sound of your voice didn’t even convince you. Your brain wouldn’t stop jumping from one thing to the next, spinning every scenario you didn’t want to think about. 

What if he did know? If that was enough to set him off, to make him call someone, pull some strings...Shit, what if he did show up, and you had to explain why you were dodging everyone and keeping things from him and—stop. 

Stop. 

You were doing it again. The spiraling. The pregnancy brain Sarah teased you about like it was some sort of cute quirk, but wasn’t cute.

You sat up straight, squeezing the couch pillow so hard you thought it might burst. Breathe. Just breathe, you’d made it this far without imploding.

You glanced toward the drawer again, the one with the envelope. You should’ve burned it, shredded it first. No, you had to keep it—just in case. But just in case of what? Just in case you needed more reasons to feel like a lunatic.

Oh my god. What if Topper saw the stupid number, and then Rafe got the hospital call, and then—bam—suddenly, they had the whole damn thing figured out?

You could feel it already—the panic. You liked to think they were both too stupid for their own good, but they were also observant. Rafe, that bastard always knew how to put things together faster than anyone. 

What if—what if it’s that simple for them? What if they both saw it, and then they were just sitting there, having some stupid-ass conversation, connecting dots you didn’t even realize were dots?

No. Stop. Stop thinking like that.

You were getting carried away, jumping to conclusions like some manic soap opera character. You weren’t that girl. Not really. But the thought of them talking—Topper with his concern and Rafe with his overbearing intensity.

Your fingers tapped a frantic rhythm against the pillow. The idea of him figuring it out? Oh, that made your skin crawl. Not because he’d be cruel—no, that wasn’t his style. He’d just be so… himself.

Overwhelming, determined to “fix” things for you, even when you didn’t ask for it. 

You groaned, dropping the pillow and standing abruptly, like the movement might kill the growing dread. No, you told yourself firmly.

You weren’t spiraling over things that hadn’t even happened yet.

But the voice in your head, the one that always sounded a little too much like Rafe, had other plans: What if it’s already too late?

You paced the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest. This was ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Nothing had happened, nothing was going to happen. The number wasn’t even that suspicious, it could’ve been anything.

You groaned again, flopping onto the couch like the dramatic mess you were currently embodying. Rafe had probably gotten the hospital call, rolled his eyes without a second thought, too busy with his new precious life.

Your stomach churned, and you pressed your hands against it instinctively. It wasn’t showing yet—thank god—but you couldn’t help the way your mind spiraled back to it, to all the ways this could go wrong.

You grabbed your car keys without thinking, maybe it would clear your head. A drive—that’s what you needed. Get out of the house, and put some distance between you and the stupid envelope, the phone calls, all of it. You turned the knob, yanked the door open—

—and froze.

Rafe’s hand was raised mid-air, clearly about to knock. You didn’t even try to hide the way your breath hitched. 

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Standing there on the porch like he hadn’t just derailed your entire plan. As if it was still perfectly normal for him to show up unannounced, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other gripping his phone, his head tilted in a maddeningly familiar way.

His hand hovered uncertainly on the doorframe as you stepped back, your arms folding protectively over your chest. He didn’t push past you, didn’t move his weight forward—just stood there.

He glanced down at the spare key still in his hand, turning it over like he was considering whether he even had the right to use it. “They called me last night.”

Okay, he was just here because of the hospital, a coincidence, that’s all it was.

“And? You could’ve ignored it.”

His hand flexed at his side like he didn’t know what to do with it. “I thought something might be wrong.”

“It’s not.” Your voice was clipped, cold. “They called the wrong number. End of story.”

He didn’t rise to the bait.

“I thought—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “I thought you were sick.”

“Like I said, it was a mix-up.”

His jaw ticked. That tiny muscle in his cheek twitched, the one that always flared when he was suspicious.

“Funny, they didn’t sound mixed up when they said your name,” he drawled, his tone probing. “Wanna try again?”

“Mind your fucking business,” Your voice was defensive, and you hated the crackle of guilt in your chest when he flinched. “I don’t need you to pretend to care. Why are you even here?” you snapped, taking a step back. The space between you felt vulnerable. “Don’t you have someone else to worry about?"

You felt cornered with every second he stood there.

“We need to talk.”

Maybe if you acted calm, like nothing was wrong, he’d stop looking at you like that. Vulnerability wasn’t something you were good at, he’d already taken too much. He always took too much.

“I don’t owe you shit. Not explanations, not answers, nothing. Leave.”

He didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

Rafe didn’t know how to let shit go, not when it came to you, he didn’t back away.

“You’re right,” he said, surprising you. “You don’t, but I’m not leaving until we talk.”

The way he said, it wasn’t even a threat. It was worse than that. It was calm, resolute, like he’d already decided, and nothing you said or did could change it. 

That scared you more than anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you hissed, “Whatever you think you know, you don’t.”

He arched an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to the edge of the couch where your phone still sat, “You sure about that?”

“God, you’re always like this. Always overstepping, always assuming—”

“I know."

All the noise in your head—your spiraling thoughts, your excuses, your endless denials—went silent, except for the way your heart thudded in your chest, so fast, it hurt. He hadn’t raised his voice, but those two words hit you like a kick to your chest.

No, he couldn’t—he didn’t, he was bluffing, he had to be. Air caught in your throat, and for a moment, you thought you might choke on it. He didn’t move, didn’t repeat himself. He couldn’t know.

Your tongue went dry. 

“What are you talking about?” You couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was squeezing your chest. You shook your head again, more violently this time, stepping back, “You don’t know shit.”

“I think I do.” His voice was quiet, and that made it worse, it wasn’t cold or angry; it wasn’t even accusing. He didn’t sound like he wanted to be right, he just sounded tired.

You prayed to come up with something—anything—to deflect, to deny, to keep the truth buried where it belonged. 

“You’re delusional,” you took another step back, putting more space between you and the man who had always known you too well.

He just shook his head, “You don’t have to lie to me, you’re scared, you’re not even trying to hide it.”

It was the way he stared with those stupid blue eyes, he was peeling back your layers. He always did that, made you feel like he could see something in you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

“Oh, fuck off.” You threw your hands up. “You don’t know shit about what I’m feeling. You’ve got no right to—I’m not lying.”

It still hurt how much you missed him, hurt to even look at him.

“Don’t pull this cryptic bullshit with me, if you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

The thing you’d been running from, denying, hiding, you simply stared at him, trying to decide if there was any way to lie your way out of this.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You tried to laugh, but it came out strangled, desperate. “T-That’s insane. You’ve lost your mind.”

Rafe wasn’t gloating or triumphant—he just looked… resigned, he’d pieced it together before he showed up.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me, not about this.”

You wanted to scream, to shove him, to do anything that would make him stop looking at you like he cared. Like he knew you. Because if you stopped long enough to think about it, you knew it was over.

He’d already seen it.

“I mean it, Rafe.” Your hand tightened on the door, nails digging into the wood. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

God, this was so fucked. You wanted him gone, but wanted him here, needed him to leave you alone, but at the same time, you hated that he could just leave.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

You thought about what he’d do if he knew—really knew. Not just the vague sense he had now, but the details. Would he try to stop you? 

Your lip quivered, and you hated yourself for it. “You’re wrong.”

You stared at him, at the way his shoulders hunched slightly, his usual confidence worn down. You hated him for being calm for once in his fucking life, for being here, for not letting this slide when it was none of his fucking business.

“Am I?”

Your hands clenched tighter, nails biting into your palms. “Why? Why do you even care? It’s not like you—”

“Because it’s mine.”

Your breath hitched again, and this time, you couldn’t hide it. You wanted to deny it, to throw something—hell, anything—back at him to make him shut the fuck up. But your throat felt like it had shut off entirely, and your mind had gone blank.

“I—” you stammered, shaking your head violently, “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re—”

“Hey, hey, just—just stop,” he said, his voice careful, as if he was trying not to spook you. “I’m not—Jesus, I’m not here to fight with you, okay? I’m not here to make this harder.”

Your chest heaved, a bitter laugh escaping before you could stop it. He was too late—late to care, late to help, late to fix anything. Five days, that’s all you had to get through.

Five days until you didn’t have to think about it anymore. 

This is the right choice, you told yourself for the hundredth time. You couldn’t bring a baby into this mess.

“You’re doing a hell of a job at that.”

“I just want to help. If you let me—”

“No,” you interrupted, grabbing the edge of the door. “I’m fixing it.”

“Fixing—?” Rafe’s brow furrowed, his confusion almost comical He started to step forward, but you stopped him with a resentful glare that made him stop. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you can take your fake concern and shove it up your ass.”

His brow furrowed. “It’s not fake—” His face twisted in confusion, mouth opening like he was about to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance, slamming the door in his face, so hard the frame rattled.

“Of course. Of course, it’s mine,” you muttered to yourself, mocking his stupid, self-righteous tone.

You leaned back against the door, sliding to the floor, arms crossed over your knees as your brain whirred like it was trying to kill you.

It wasn’t like you had a choice.

Technically, you did, but what were you supposed to do? Keep it and become a tragic sob story? The words almost felt like you’d ripped them out of someone else’s mouth, right or wrong didn’t even matter anymore. There wasn’t space in your life for this—for him, for a baby, for any of it.

A muffled knock sounded from the front door—tentative, like he was giving you a moment.

“Go away,” you yelled, your voice hoarse.

“Open the door.”

Your thoughts taunted you with memories and possibilities you didn’t want to entertain. The way Rafe had looked at you—like he knew—it was unbearable.

How had he put it together? Maybe you'd slip up in tiny ways, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. You hated yourself for being so careless, despised him even more for being so fucking relentless.

You wiped your cheeks roughly, not realizing you’d started crying until your sleeve came back damp.

“Please, just open the door. We can talk—just talk, okay?

“No,” you muttered to the empty room. “No, I’m not doing this.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning your head back against the door and pressing your hands over your ears to block him out. 

“Don’t shut me out like this,” he begged. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t stand it when you do this. Just open the door. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

He had a key. If he wanted to, he could let himself in at any moment, but he didn’t, that wasn’t the Rafe you were used to.

Before, he'd have barged right in, shouted until your ears bled, and demanded answers. He would’ve tried to fix it or destroy it, maybe both. 

You hated that he still acted like he cared, that he was trying to be so fucking reasonable now, when just a few months ago, he would’ve lost it, broken through any barrier to get what he wanted.

This was worse, this Rafe was wearing you down.

Another hushed plea made it through the door, but all you could think was how thin the wood felt, how it barely drowned the sound of his voice. A new door might be better, something heavier, more solid, that could drown out everything—the desperation, the crack in his voice.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you bit hard on the inside of your cheek to keep them from falling. 

“I know you’re scared,” he continued, “And I know you think I’ll screw this up—God knows I probably will. But please don’t keep me in the dark. Just tell me what’s going on.”

You pictured flipping through hardware store catalogs, weighing your options: oak? steel? soundproofing foam?

“Please,” Rafe whispered, and the rawness in his voice scraped against you like nails on a chalkboard. You tilted your head back against the door, willing yourself not to cry again. 

Steel doors don’t warp as easily as wood.

You swallowed hard, your body aching as you fought the sob threatening to escape. He didn’t deserve this—didn’t deserve to sound so wrecked over you. He'd done this to himself.

Your fingers twitched against the door handle, the temptation to open it curling around you, but instead, you thought about bolts.

Deadbolts, a second lock could work, something he couldn’t get through even if he had the key.

His voice wavered again, you thought he might start crying, too, yet all you did was glance at the base of the door. A better seal would muffle the noise more. Maybe weatherstripping? That could help.

You pressed your hands tighter over your ears, as though it would help. It didn’t. Nothing would—not until you replaced the lock, the door, the memory of him standing there and breaking himself open for you.

God, you really needed a new door—and a new heart.

One that didn’t twist at the sound of his voice, that didn’t flinch every time he called your name like it was a prayer. A heart that didn’t feel for him, you told yourself, over and over, like a mantra. If you could just stop the way your chest tightened at his pleas, stop the ache in your ribs when he said he couldn’t let this go.

You wanted steel walls, that could keep everything out—his voice, his touch, the memories of all the good parts of him that had kept you hanging on for so long. Because of this heart? It was useless, too soft, too easily swayed, still willing to believe him, even when you knew better.

“Please, just talk to me,” Rafe begged. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this calmness came from Sofia.

Perhaps she was the reason he’d changed, maybe she had somehow made him different, had softened the sharp edges of the guy you used to know. She was calm, collected—nothing like you. It hurt like a bitch, the thought that someone else could make him this patient. You wondered if she’d taught him how to handle his emotions, how to be this way—he’d learned some secret he never bothered to share with you.

You couldn't let yourself go there, couldn't let the bitterness of that thought settle in your mind for too long.

“Talk to me.”

No. Not this time.

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@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[the-sunflower-room]

scared half to death

🌪️tyler owens x fem!reader 

☆ genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

☆ wc: 2.7k

☆ summary: tyler owens is not easily angered, but when the love of his life runs into an incoming tornado without a second thought, his emotions get the better of him.

☆ warnings: a very upset tyler, yelling, language

note: so i watched twisters and it was actually everything to me! the brainrot is bad and i’ve been wanting to write for tyler ever since i saw it, so here it is! this is very much the idiots in love trope because it’s one of my favorites. enjoy! :)

“Where is she?”

Tyler isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this angry before. He considers himself a fairly easy going man, always quick to make light of a situation and put everyone in the room at ease with his charming, joking nature.

But this was different. This had his heart pounding, his ears ringing. His face is flushed red and he feels like he can hardly breathe.

All because of her.

He slams the door of his truck, approaching his crew in the gas station parking lot with a look on his face that’s so completely un-Tyler that it makes them all shift uneasily.

“Where’s…who?” Boone tries weakly, unsuccessful in his attempt to play dumb. Lily rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare.

Tyler clenches his jaw, for once not in the mood for his friends’ antics. “You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

They all exchange glances, his uncharacteristic demeanor both surprising and concerning. This isn’t the calm, charismatic frontman of the Tornado Wranglers they’re used to.

“She’s in the RV, but I don’t think-” Dani begins, but he’s already beelining for the camper before they can finish. He can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he nearly bursts through the door, finding her sitting at the small table in the back with her head in her hands.

Her gaze snaps up at the sound of his entrance into the RV, and her face immediately drops when she sees him practically fuming. “Tyler-” she says urgently, instantly on her feet as he approaches as if she’s about to defend herself. But he isn’t having any of it.

“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking out there?” He seethes, suddenly towering over her with his jaw clenched and hands on his hips. She swallows thickly, nervous around this version of him. Terrified to have upset him, disappointed him.

“Tyler, I promise, I was just trying to do the right thing-” she starts again, her tone practically pleading, but he just scoffs. 

“The right thing?” He questions in disbelief, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “You call nearly getting yourself killed in the field ‘doing the right thing’?”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the reminder of what she’d done, at the venom in his voice that’s ordinarily so gentle when directed at her. Memories of what had transpired nearly 20 minutes ago flood her mind and she feels a lump forming in her throat.

“I couldn’t let our data get lost,” she whispers weakly, her gaze glued to the floor in shame. “Bullshit,” he mutters, jaw clenched as his breath picks up. His eyes search her face, grasping to understand why the hell she had risked her life the way she had.

“You don’t run into the path of an incoming EF3 to recover some stupid equipment for our disruption research,” he practically spits, his voice growing louder, more emotional.

“That equipment is completely replaceable. You sure as hell aren’t. So I want to know why on god’s green earth you thought it was a good idea to run headfirst into danger like that.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes welling up with unshed tears at the reminder of her brashness. She feels ashamed and almost embarrassed as Tyler practically berates her.

They were best friends, a pair that the rest of the team liked to call the “dynamic duo.” With a shared passion for tornadoes and a taste for danger, they had instantly clicked from the moment they met during a chase a few years ago, becoming inseparable. Which is why Tyler’s harsh reminder of her stupidity stung so painfully.

She wasn’t used to hearing him so upset, so emotional in the worst way. With her, his tone was always soft, teasing, sometimes so overtly flirty that it would leave her heart pounding and her cheeks flushed.

But this was different. Now his gaze was harsh, curses unnaturally tumbling from his lips as she struggled to explain herself. And she hated every moment of his scrutinizing stare.

“You’ve worked so hard on putting together the equipment for the disruption research. I didn’t want you to have to start from scratch…not after all the effort you went through,” she explains pathetically, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions begin to shine through.

Tyler shakes his head, stepping even closer into her space. “And you thought it was worth risking your life for?” He grits out, his furrowed brow and downturned lips looking so unnatural on his normally smiling face.

Another shuddering breath escapes her as she catches herself from revealing the true reason she’d been so careless, from baring her soul and telling him that she’d run into the path of an incoming tornado because she loved him more than anything. That the thought of his disappointed face, his devastation over months of work lost to an unpredictably large tornado, hurt her so much that she would have done anything to save that equipment.

Anything to make him happy, to be the hero that he was to her.

“I- I didn’t get hurt, I knew I had time to get at least some of it-” she stammers, but she can’t get the words out.

“You didn’t have time!” He practically yells, gripping her shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. His eyes are wide, his gaze burning as he stares down at her.

“If Boone hadn’t been close by with his truck, you could’ve easily not made it. You could’ve died,” he chokes out, his grip on her tightening. His eyes are watering now, his anger fizzling out into something more desperate, more panicked.

Tyler still remembers the pure, unadulterated fear he’d felt as she slipped out of the safety of his truck before he could stop her, sprinting out into the open field where the winds and torrential rain were getting worse by the second.

He remembers the devastated scream of her name that had ripped itself from his chest, lost to the howling winds.

He sure as hell can’t forget the feeling of overwhelming fear and helplessness that overtook him when the rain became so intense that he could not longer see her, no longer assure himself that she hadn’t been sucked up into the raging funnel or hurt by the flying debris.

It was only when he got radio confirmation from Boone five minutes later, stating that she was safe in their truck with some of the equipment intact, that he even knew she was alive.

It had been the most hopeless, terrifying five minutes of his life.

“Don’t you understand what you mean to everyone? What you mean to me?” He rasps, his voice quieter now, more broken. “Some stupid equipment for an experiment isn’t worth your life, Y/N. Not in the least.”

His eyes are tender now as they rake over her face, scanning the scrapes and cuts littering her cheeks, the patch of dried blood clinging to her temple. His heart aches at the thought of her getting hurt, even if the injuries are small.

She notices that nearly all of his anger has left his body, replaced by the emotion that had truly been brewing beneath the surface: crippling fear at the possibility of losing her.

A silent tear runs down her face at his softer, more vulnerable words, her heart breaking as she realizes the effect her thoughtless actions have had on the man she loves. He’s quick to gently wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on her cheek as he gazes at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she chokes back a sob. In an instant, he’s enveloping her in his tight, comforting hold, cradling her head to his chest and pulling her so close to him that their bodies are practically molded together.

“Shhh…it’s alright, sweetheart,” he gently hushes, his hand stroking through her hair as she cries softly against him. He’s back to himself now, all anger and frustration long abandoned in favor of his naturally calm, caring demeanor. Through her tears, she feels herself flushing slightly at his term of endearment.

“I’m the sorry one. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya, you didn’t deserve it,” he murmurs into her ear, his arms tightening around her.

He internally berates himself for defaulting to anger when she had also probably been scared and upset. But thinking she had died in that tornado just for attempting to recover his equipment had struck something so deep within him that his brain had reacted irrationally.

He stews in his remorse for a moment longer before admitting a truth that might be a little too vulnerable, a little too revealing of his deep and unwavering love for her, but he has to get it off his chest.

“…You just scared me half to death, darlin’. I can’t lose you...I can’t. It would tear me apart worse than a damn tornado ever could.” His whispered words are so raw and tinged with devastation that her breath hitches against his chest.

Slowly, she peels herself away from his comforting embrace to get a good look at him, and what she finds makes her heart clench in her chest. 

His eyes are red and glassy, obvious signs that he’d been crying. His muscles are taught with anxiety, like every fiber in his body had been tense ever since she fled his truck. His hair is slightly tousled and she instantly knows he’d been running his hand through it the way he does when he’s stressed.

The thought that she could cause him this much worry, this much pain, sucks the breath from her lungs and makes her feel dizzy.

“I only tried to save the equipment because I knew how important the research was to you,” she whispers, her voice still shaky but full of sincerity.

“I know how much it means to you, finding a way to keep these tornadoes from causing so much damage to innocent lives. I just- I wanted to do something brave and selfless for you, the way you always have for me,” she admits softly, swallowing as she meets his gaze.

His lips part slightly at her admission, the reverence in her words staggering. Hearing that she cares for him, finds him brave and selfless, wants to return the way he makes her feel, fills his heart with a love so deep he feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Y/N, you’re-” he rasps, pausing to clear his throat when he hears how raw and weak his voice sounds.

“You’re so damn sweet. Your heart is so big. That’s what I love about you. But please, don’t be as stupid as me. I throw myself headfirst into danger so much because I don’t think first…my judgement gets clouded by the thought of helping someone and I get tunnel vision. Which has put me in one too many potentially life-ending scenarios,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her slightly as they rest on her shoulders.

“I can’t- I won’t let you be that careless. You mean too much to me.”

Her eyes widen at the tenderness in his voice, the affection and worry dripping from every word. It feels like their conversation is breaching on something deeper, something much more vulnerable and terrifying.

Her mind is hung up on his soft that’s what I love about you. Even hearing the word love directed at her from the mouth of Tyler Owens makes her head spin and her face heat up, and she’s unsure if she’s even breathing anymore.

“Tyler…” she manages, her voice threatening to break with the overwhelming swirl of emotions running through her. She can’t help herself, knows that she’s finally going to put it out there, tell him how she feels no matter how scary it might be.

“I love-” his lips are on hers before she can even finish. The sensation of Tyler kissing her is unlike anything she’s ever felt, and she’s damn sure she never wants him to stop.

His large hand tenderly cups her cheek while the other snakes into her hair, tangling his fingers through the strands as he pulls her even closer. She gasps softly as his grip tightens, his lips moving against her own with an almost feral desperation.

The salt from her tears mixes with his sweet taste – something like honey and peppermint – and she melts further into him and his warmth. She can feel him pour every ounce of his turbulent, pent-up emotions into the kiss, and it leaves her completely breathless.

He’s waited for this moment for so long, and after thinking he’d lost her today, he’d be content to just kiss her like this for the rest of time. Reassuring himself that’s she’s still there, that she’s his. Showing her what she means to him.

Finally getting a grip on his emotions, Tyler pulls away for a moment, wanting to make sure he hasn’t misread the signs, misinterpreted what he’d felt brewing between them for so long.

But a wide, disbelieving grin spreads across her face as she fights to catch her breath, and he suddenly has no doubt that she’s been his all along.

“I’ve been waiting for that for- well, I don’t even know how long,” she laughs breathlessly, slightly woozy from his intoxicating taste.

He huffs a laugh in return, his eyes shining with an overwhelming adoration for the woman before him. “Yeah…I think Boone might owe Dexter and Lily some money,” he jokes softly, his thumb gently brushing her rain-soaked hair away from her face.

His eyes roam over her, taking in every inch of her muddy clothes, her scraped up hands, the shallow cut on her temple. Regret courses through him at the way he’d raised his voice at her, even if it had been out of fear of losing her.

“Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” He murmurs, his voice lower and more serious than before. She gently nods, her hand moving to rest on top of his own as it cups her face.

“I’m ok, promise. It’s just a little scrape from slipping in the mud,” she reassures him, sensing his lingering gaze on her slightly bloodied face. She can practically feel the apprehension in his stare, his constant worry for her well-being so endearing that she just wants to kiss him again and again.

“I promise, Ty. And I swear, I won’t do anything like that again. I just got lost in the moment and didn’t think before acting.” He nods slowly, letting the sincerity in her voice wash over her and comfort his racing mind. 

“You’d better not,” he teases softly, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “If we’re doing this thing, no more running headfirst into tornadoes, you hear? Can’t have my girl acting like an irrational daredevil like me. I’ve been told she’s smarter than that.”

She feels herself blushing as he calls her his girl, the title rolling off his tongue so naturally that it makes her heart skip a beat. Tyler watches as a hearty laugh escapes her and she leans into his touch, his own smile growing wider.

Suddenly nothing else has ever mattered beyond this moment of her in his arms, blushing and laughing like he’s the funniest damn man in the world.

“Ok, alright,” she giggles with feigned exasperation. “No more running into tornado paths, I swear. Wrangler’s honor. But you have to swear it too. You’re an adrenaline junkie and a trouble maker, even more than I am.”

He chuckles at her playful jab, his body feeling lighter than it has all day as he finally lets the tension within him fade. She’s safe, he tells himself over and over. She’s alive, she’s teasing him like she always does, and she’s got him smiling like a damn fool.

“Baby,” he mutters with that teasing glint in his eye, “you need to get my head checked if I ever run away from you and into a tornado. No man in his right mind would leave a gorgeous thing like you for some wind.”

Before she can reply to his ridiculous comment, he captures her lips once more with his own, relishing in the way she smiles against him as he pulls her closer.

This is all Tyler’s ever wanted - all he’s ever needed. Just her, safe and sound, loving him in all his flaws and worry for her.

If her running into that damn field led to this moment, this reality where she’s finally his, then so be it. He’s never been more grateful for a tornado.

[peachsukii]

In an attempt to swing back into writing...

For softie Sunday, I'm thinking about Bakugo and reader dating casually in their mid 20s - they both have been through past relationship bullshit and are hoping that this time, it would be different with one another.

It's been a few months, nothing crazy, but he's been working nonstop. Like, three to four days of back to back rescues, emergencies, and normal patrols that have him exhausted beyond belief. You two haven't had a lot of time to spend together recently, and he hates it. Running out the door in the middle of dinner dates or movie nights at your apartment, it ate away at him that his relationship was taking a backseat in his life. That’s how his last one ended, and he was goddamn determined to not let it happen again.

You had tried to tell him to go home and rest, but his stubborn nature kicks in and refuses. He tells you he'll be at your place by seven and that he'll just shower at your place to save time. Bakugo arrives at your apartment and the exhaustion is evident in his demeanor. He greets you with a gruff "hey" before coming inside, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before unloading all of his stuff to the floor. Your apartment is cozy as always, feeling like a second home to him in such a short amount of time. As you ask him about his day, he just grumbles something under his breath and shakes his head. “Be done in 15. Go pick a movie.”

Bakugo’s walking down the hall to your bathroom with his bag over his shoulder, and the way his body looks too heavy for him weighs on your heart. He works so hard, and yet, refuses to have anyone help him in return. It’s a bit impulsive, but you follow behind him. He hears your footsteps and shoots a glance over his shoulder at you.

“What’re ya doin’?” He asks curiously.

You take another step toward him and smile, a hand resting on his back. “Let me help you.”

He’s too tired to protest, to sleep deprived to use any of his default defensive mechanisms to shoo you away. He thinks for a second and sighs. “Alright.”

And it’s not like you two haven’t seen each other naked before — hell no. You do that any chance you get. But this? It’s different. It’s a new kind of intimacy being explored. The two of you strip down and jump in the shower together, and you can tell immediately that Bakugo’s unsure what exactly you’re doing in there with him. That is, until you reach around him and grab some of your vanilla scented body wash, lathering it in your hands and start to rub his shoulders. The emotion hits him like a truck in his exhausted state, fight or flight kicking in to run from this…but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets you massage the soap all over his body for him, eyes closed and the tension melting away as your hands explore every aching muscle.

Just when he thinks you’re done, you start washing his hair for him, too. A wave of unfamiliar affection drowns out his urge to swat your hands away as he focuses on the softness of your hands, how gently you scratch at his scalp and that it feels goddamn fantastic to be taken care of like this. It flips a switch in him, finally relaxing under your touch. Bakugo doesn’t even realize when you’re done until you’re titling his head back under the stream of hot water to rinse it out for him.

He’s not sure what good deed he’s done to deserve you, but he’s not letting it slip through his fingers this time. And who knows? Maybe he is learning how to love, and be loved, again.

[starkeyisthelastname]

how would trailerpark!rafe act of he caught reader talking to a boy her own age?

he doesn’t like it.. which leads to some dirty sex to make you remember he’s the only one you need to be talking to. 💦

You’d be doing one of your normal cookie runs around the trailer park, little white basket in hand as you skipped along as happy as can be. The boy would live a few trailers down from yours, and he was about the same age as you. Your mind was constantly on Rafe, as you didn’t know any better but to be attached to him. Meaning you were oblivious to the boy’s flirting, just wanting to show him the treats you made. You were naturally a happy person, your pretty smile always flashing and thick lashes batting.

Rafe’s beat up pickup came to a screeching halt in front of the boy’s trailer as he saw you standing there, that punk’s hand practically about to grab your ass. He had ran around the corner to get a pack of cigarettes, and he pulls up to this shit. You were his, didn’t he make that clear? “Get in the truck now.” He called out to you without any emotion on his face, cigarette hanging between his lips.

You saw Rafe, meaning an excited smile lit up your face not knowing he was mad. You waved goodbye to the boy after setting a few cookies down for him and ran over to the truck to get in. Rafe zoomed off without another second, head turning to you for a brief moment before you could even speak. “Hey listen to me real good, yeah? No more givin’ your sweets and shit away around here. Got it?” He said, voice rough.

You heard him and immediately pouted, something you didn’t do very often but couldn’t help it as you didn’t understand. “But, why?” You asked, looking at him now as he focused on pulling into his trailer. He didn’t say a word, instead getting out of the truck and making his way up the crooked steps. Like the lost puppy you were, you scrambled out of the vehicle and followed him inside. “I’m talking to you!” You whined, stomping your feet a little as you walked behind him.

Rafe didn’t like attitudes and you learned that quickly along with why you weren’t aloud to talk to that boy or any boys for that matter anymore. “You are gonna cop a fuckin’ tone with me, after lettin’ that punk try and put his dick in you.” He spat, his massive hand coming down to spank your ass cheek as he pushed himself in. That was the furthest thing from what you were even thinking about when showing off your basket of cookies, he knew that. You were just so naive though and he couldn’t let that limp dick 20 year old even come close to touching your precious self. It was his job to ruin you and make you his little cookie baking trailer park house wife.

You squeaked as he slammed into from behind, your face down into the messy kitchen table. “This sweet cunt is mine. Remember that babydoll?” He gritted out, rough hands yanking head back as he fisted your hair. He began thrusting deeper into your tight hole, picking up his pace as the old wood began to creak beneath you. “You just go dumb on the dick, don’t you sugar? Can’t even fuckin’ speak after a few seconds.” He laughed breathlessly as he watched your beautiful face change.

Your delicate hands held onto the edge of the table, scalp burning as he continued to force your head back to meet his darkened blue eyes. Your mouth fell open, just to let out a gasp as he was so big and you couldn’t do anything but take it. He always made your tummy feel funny, even if you didn’t understand why. You just wanted to be around him all the time and do whatever he said.

“From now on, you don’t fuckin’ question me. If I don’t want you prancin’ around in skank skirts, battin’ your pretty eyelashes so that boys like your little neighbor you got over there thinkin’ they got a chance with you..” He rasped out, watching your eyes roll back as felt you start to clench around him. “Then you fuckin’ listen to me. The only person you bake your goddamn cookies for from now on is me slut.” His words filthy to throw you over the edge.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Request for Remy with his lady being sick? 🥺💗 Love your work!!!

In sickness and in health

The rain tapped gently against the windowpane, a soft rhythm that filled the quiet of the room. Outside, the world was gray, drenched in the kind of autumn rain that made you want to curl up under the blankets and disappear for a while. Unfortunately, you were already confined to bed, not by choice, but by the relentless grip of a nasty cold that had taken up residence in your body for the past few days.

You were miserable. Your head was heavy, your throat raw, and your whole body ached. Even breathing felt like a chore. The pile of used tissues on the nightstand was evidence of your struggles, and despite the warm cocoon of blankets surrounding you, a persistent chill lingered in your bones.

But what made it all bearable—what brought the slightest hint of comfort to the otherwise dreary situation—was Remy.

Remy LeBeau, or Gambit as he was known to most, had been at your side from the moment you first felt the scratch in your throat. Despite his usual swagger and charm, when it came to you being unwell, Remy was nothing short of devoted. He moved around the room with a quiet efficiency that was at odds with his usual, more flamboyant nature, taking care of your every need without a second thought.

"Ma chère, you need anything?" Remy's soft, accented voice broke through the fog of your misery, drawing your attention. He stood in the doorway, a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a fresh box of tissues in the other. His red eyes, usually so mischievous, were filled with concern as he looked at you.

You managed a weak smile, your voice raspy as you responded, "Just you, Remy."

He grinned, though it was a gentler smile than his usual roguish smirk. "Good t'ing I’m already here, non?" He crossed the room in a few easy strides, setting the tea down on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and you leaned into him, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence.

"I made you some tea," he said, reaching for the cup. "Jus' how you like it—honey, lemon, an' a little bit o' love." He winked at you as he offered you the cup, and despite feeling like you’d been run over by a truck, you couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Thanks," you whispered, your voice hoarse but sincere. You took the cup from him, the warmth seeping into your cold hands, and sipped slowly, savoring the sweet, soothing liquid.

Remy watched you with a tenderness that he rarely showed anyone else. For all his bravado and flirtations, with you, he was different. More vulnerable, more real. He reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin for just a moment longer than necessary.

"You ain't gotta worry 'bout nothin', chérie," he murmured, his voice soft as he ran his fingers gently through your hair. "Remy gon’ take care o’ you."

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. Even in your weakened state, the warmth of his fingers against your scalp was enough to send a shiver down your spine, a reminder that despite the cold, there was still something warm and good in the world.

"I’m sorry you have to take care of me," you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I know it’s not what you signed up for."

Remy’s laugh was soft, almost a chuckle, and he shook his head, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. "Now where you gettin’ a fool notion like that, huh?" he asked, his breath warm against your skin. "You think Remy’s only here for the good times? Cher, you got me all wrong." He tilted your chin up gently, his eyes meeting yours, and there was something so earnest, so sincere in his gaze that it made your chest ache. "I’m here for all of it, bonne et mauvaise. Sickness, health, an’ everything in between. That’s what love is, non?"

You blinked back tears, not sure if they were from the sickness or the overwhelming emotion that welled up inside you. Either way, you knew you were lucky—so incredibly lucky—to have someone like Remy in your life. Someone who didn’t just love you for the good times but was willing to be there through the rough patches too.

"I love you, Remy," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too, ma chère," he replied without hesitation, pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly. "Now, why don’t you rest a bit more? I’ll be right here if you need anyt’ing."

You nodded, your eyes already drooping with exhaustion. The tea had done its job, soothing your throat and easing the tightness in your chest, and the warmth of Remy’s presence was enough to lull you back into a peaceful sleep.

As you drifted off, you felt him shift beside you, his arm wrapping around you in a protective embrace. Even as you slipped into the haze of sleep, you could still feel his warmth, his love, surrounding you like a shield against the sickness that tried to drag you down.

[tojisth3rdwife]

Part 2

a/n: this one is probably 40% smut parts here. Pregnant sex is the bees knees, speaking from experience. A 💋 will mark where it starts and ends in case you want to skip it. There will definitely be a part 3 lol

BabyDaddyToji was enjoying your pregnancy more than you were.

For starters, and not to be crude but the sex was unmatched. Toji had a thing for cumming inside of you raw before but now?? With the only motivation not to no longer being relevent, there wasnt a day where Toji didnt want to be inside of you.

Granted, he wasnt jumping your bones 24/7. Especially in the beginning. He let you set the tone for that based on your mood. And it was rough in that first trimester. It seemed like as soon as you confirmed the pregnancy , every symptom in the book hit your ass like a mack truck.

You slept majority of the day.

You spent many mornings, afternoons and evenings face down in the toilet.

Your mood was unpredictable, although you did your best not to crash out and frighten Megumi or take it out on Toji.

Even when you did, Toji didnt take it personally.

You’d been snippy with him all night over the smallest things.

He closed the door too loudly when he came in the bedroom, not helping your hormonal headache whatsoever. When he asked you how you were feeling, it was returned with an attitudinal “How the fuck do you think I feel? I cant eat. Im always tired. My back hurts. My head hurts. The dog’s wont stop barking..” you trailed off. Toji approaches where you were now sitting up at the edge of the bed, bent over with your face in your hands.

You were a mess. Your hair. Your skin. You just felt gross and overly emotional, something that was so unlike you. Toji knew it, but unlike you, he at least understood why.

The tears were already flowing by the time he joined you on the bed, reaching for your hands to pull away from your face.

“N-no Toji....” you sniffled, attempting to hide yourself from Toji as he gripped your wrists gently. He smiled as you fought against his strength pointlessly , and he pulls you into him for a hug he knew you needed.

Mind you, Toji was far from perfect. There were plenty of times when he didn’t know how to comfort you or the right thing to say at the right time. But being with you over the years improved his sense of compassion and empathy towards others, meaning you were no exception.

Toji rubbed your lower back, pulling your body as close as he could.

“Im sorry, baby. Seems like today is kicking your ass..” he says with his lips in your messy hair. You chuckle dryly at the sentiment, sniffing back the snot threatening to dribble from your nose.

“Yeah.” You sigh. Toji hums against your crown, slipping his fingers under the elastic waistband of your leggings. Not in a suggestive or sexual manner, just to hold you better. He sat with you for a few seconds in silence before asking you if you wanted him to get out so you could rest.

“No…” you mutter, clutching his t-shirt. You gave in to his embrace and nuzzled his chest, your breath stuttering from the sudden rush of emotions. Toji smirks.

You were so cute when your were stubborn.

In other news…

Your body was gradually changing. Too much in appearance , although your tits were gigantic now, but more in how you felt and responded to your environment.

For starters, nothing tasted or smelled the same, in good and bad ways alike.

The smell of cooking/ grilled meats? ❌

The scent of certain cleaning products and laundry detergents?✅

Megumi’s dogs? (Although you still loved them to pieces) ❌

The sweet and savory combo of pizza and strawberry toaster strudels stacked on top of eachother with the frosting and marinara sauce melding together? ✅

The smell of Toji’s favorite instant ramen? ❌

Eggs? ❌

Yogurt? ❌

Chocolate? ❌

The scent of anything Toji related? His cologne? His after shave? His sweaty shirts straight from the gym? ✅✅✅

But despite all of that, especially once the sickness and exhaustion began to taper out as you entered the 2nd trimester, you were horny.

Like VERY horny, tracking back to the opening statement..

And fuck, Toji loved it.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

He’d barely made it inside after returning from dropping Megumi off at school before your hands were at his belt.

“Whoa..” Toji’s brows shot up as well as his hands when you made quick work of undoing his pants and pulling his dick out. He wasnt even hard yet and he still felt heavy in your hand as you stroked him slowly.

Lips at his neck and your other hand pushing his shirt up, you mumbled against his skin.

“I want you so bad it hurts..”

And it did. The spike in hormones, coupled with the increased blood flow down there made everything feel 10 times more intense. All Toji had to do was kiss you and you felt your inner thighs become slippery against each other from his wet you were. After a simple ‘brb’ smooch on his way out the door to take Megs, your clit was engorged and your gummy walls clenched in need of him.

You tried rubbing one out but you were too frustrated to get yourself there.

You needed release.

You needed him in the worst way.

Toji groaned as your expert touch had his dick jumping and swelling to life with every stroke of your hand.

“Hurts?” He frowns at your choice of words. You paused trying to undress him to take Toji’s hand and guide under your large sleep shirt to cup your sex. You had soaked through the fabric of your panties and just Toji’s touch had your walls pulsing.

“Fuck..” he exhaled,taking the initiative to rub your puffy clothed lips as if to sooth you. But all it did was rile you up even more.

“See?” You whimper and Toji cusses under his breath again.

“Shit, babe…How are you always this fucking wet? Hmm?” He tilts his head, now the one taking the reigns.

“Toji..” your breath hitched, breaking and stalling as the rough pads of his fingers rubbed yiur clothed pussy. His fingers found tiny hill of your clit pressing through your panties and he circles it slowly. You gripped his flexing forearm desperately, breathy moans leaving you as your back collides with the wall adjacent to the front door, with Toji’s height eclipsing you in his shadow. He speeds up his antics, all while pressing his lips to your pulse in a gentle kiss.

By the way you keened in his ear, Toji was sure of one thing.

“Gonna cum right here? Right now?” He asks, strumming his middle and index over your civered clit faster. You nod with you mouth agape, digging your nails into Toji’s arm.

“Yesyesyesyesyesbabyplease..fuck..”

Your knees buckled as the wave of pleasure washed over you, a gush of slick staining the your underwear. Anyone walking by outside definitely heard your cry of ecstasy, but Toji never gave a damn about his neighbors.

“Shit..c’mere” he pulls you towards him by the throat for a sloppy breathless kiss, licking into your mouth and catching every moan off your tongue as he rubs your sensitive folds over your drenched panties.

Without warning, Toji picks you up like you weigh nothing to carry you in the room, tossing you on the bed to fuck the ache out of your pussy until it was damn near time for Megumi to get out of school.

But as you began to show around week 14-15, Toji was more mindful of how he handled your body. You assured him that you could take it and encouraged him to go harder, but it was pointless. He was just too damn big and you seemed way too fragile to be bent in half and pounded the way he used to.

The tenderness was welcomed in exchange though..

As much as you loved your belly, you hated how it blocked your view of Toji eating you out. Watching his tongue glide over your puffy lips and clit made you even wetter and Toji lapped it straight from the source. He groaned at the taste of you. Not that he didnt love your pussy’s flavor before you were pregnant but there was something more intense about it now. Even your scent was more potent and addicting, having him thinking about burrying his face between your legs all damn day.

Toji ate your pussy like his life depended on it, swirling his tongue over the hood of your clit and flicking its underside in the way he knew would make you shake.

“Mmmhmm” he moaned against you, hugging your thighs and caressing your baby bump affectionately.

You’d attempted to crane your neck to get a glimpse of what he was doing in the beginning but now you just surrendered to the fact that you wouldnt be seeing anything down there without a mirror for a while.

That was ok though.

Allowing yourself to focus only on what Toji’s lips and tongue did to you made cumming on his face most enjoyable for the both of you.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

“Are you ready to know the sex?” your doctor asks from behind the monitor. You glance at her in surprise, even though you knew the question was coming.

Toji hated that he couldnt be there and damn near walked out on a job if you hadnt convinced him to stay and focus.

But you really wished he was here.

“Could you write it down and put it in an envelope for me?” you asked, doing your best to keep your gaze from traveling over to the big mounted screen on the wall, and your doctor obliged.

That way when you took it to the bakery and asked them to pipe the corresponding color frosting in a pre made jumbo cupcake, it would be a surprise both you and Toji could share.

Taglist: @queendessi24 , @xllizs, @whoreforjjkmen , @hellokittyloverrxox .

Part 1 <<<<<

Part 3 (soon)

The Fushiguro’s <<<<<

[pupuyvs]

lost

pairings: aespa x reader?? idk its not romantic

wc: 1k+

warnings: heavy angst, you’re dead…sorry, mentions of suicide and abuse

a/n i just wanted to test out writing so uhh enjoy this short stuff (and feel free to yell at me in my inbox :D)

Being friends with Jimin felt like an escape, to be in her group you only had to follow one rule: never discuss the past. The rule worked for them, you all had problems and none of you had to discuss them.

No one brought up how you seemed to fear fire more than others, nor how Minjeong seems to have a strange aversion to water. They didn’t discuss how sickly Aeri often was or how Yizhuo seemed to always appear with new bruises, and they especially didn’t mention Jimin’s disdain towards being touched. And it worked that way, at least it seemed it did, that was until you died.

Suicide, the police told them. The note had been severely burnt, the only piece left having the word sorry written on it.

At your funeral they stand before your picture, one they have never seen before, you look happy – it makes Jimin sick.

They stay until your grandmother arrives, Minjeong not wanting you to be alone. It’s silent as they make their way to the old train tracks, the rocks rolling under their feet being the only sound around them. When they arrive at the train cart they made their second home they each grab a drink from the stash they had accumulated over the years, each taking a sip. They come to a silent agreement that this is also something they won’t talk about.

This agreement only lasts a couple weeks, it’s Yizhuo that breaks first. Her bruised hands shaking as she sobs. It was an honest mistake, someone asked where you were and Yizhuo snapped. It took all three of them to pull her off as she screamed at the person for not knowing what happened to you – she broke down when they left the store. Yizhuo leaves them when she stops sobbing and when she appears the next day with a bruise on her bottom lip they don’t discuss it.

Jimin doesn’t know how to deal with these types of things, she tries to get the group to function as it once had without you, but it’s nearly impossible as none of them can remember the time they had without you.

Aeri slips up next, between her bouts of coughs she asks you to pass her some water. She freezes as your name slips out of her mouth, the air in her lungs rattling as she takes a deep breath in. Jimin rushes to give her a water bottle, praying that this passes, that they can move on, but Aeri is already hyperventilating. It takes Minjeong holding her closely to calm her, thanking Jimin softly as she hands her the water. When she sits next to Yizhuo she misses the way she clenches her hands and how the cuts on her knuckles begin to bleed again.

The beach sounded like a good idea to Jimin, but as Minjeong screams at the top of her lungs she realizes that she may have made a mistake. It started off fine, the beach wasn’t packed as it was winter and the girls listened to the waves from the truck Yizhuo had stolen from her father. Then Minjeong brings up how you loved the ocean, a fact Jimin didn’t know. None of them respond, the waves crash against the rock wall nearby, and Minjeong yells.

Jimin is wary, but when she moves to stop her Aeri grabs onto her, she flinches at the sudden touch but listens to Aeri and moves back. She doesn’t stop till her throat gives out and the ocean calms, on the drive home they stop to get her cough drops. They never bring it up again.

Jimin swears that it doesn’t affect her, she had a handle on her emotions — she was fine. But then she dreams of you, it’s nothing crazy, it’s actually laughable how mundane it is. You guys were on a train eating honey bread, she assumes it’s from the movie she watched earlier. But maybe that simpleness is why when she wakes up she calls you, it isn’t until the fourth ring she remembers that you now only exist in the dreams and memories she holds.

When the group comes together that day their regular silence is off, it’s no longer comfortable nor familiar. Now it’s forced and suffocating, and it’s why Jimin speaks up first.

“Let’s go see them.”

Your grave isn’t anything fancy, it has a bouquet and your picture. The headstone only mentions your name and how you were loved, who you were loved by missing, but it doesn’t anger Jimin because she knew her and the others' names were too long to fit on it.

Minjeong cries first, she sobs when Aeri’s shaky hands lay the few flowers they had collected along the way on her headstone. Yizhuo follows right behind, her sobs come out rasped, her throat still rough from her father’s discovery of the car incident. And when Aeri cries, so does Jimin.

They don’t speak, just sob with each other, and they continue that way until a voice pops up behind them.

“Oh, you’ve finally come.”

Your house, or your grandmother’s, is small but comfortable. Your presence is felt in every space as markings of you grace the wall. The friends sit on the old couch in your old living room — Jimin wonders how many times you have sat here too.

Your grandmother comes back with water for each girl, Yizhuo helping her carry them. When Yizhuo sits next to Jimin your grandmother begins to speak.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to greet you guys at the funeral, you were gone before I could say hello.”

The girls don’t respond, all of them feeling bad for leaving the woman alone on the day. But the older woman doesn’t seem to notice as she reaches for the box that was on the table. Pulling out pictures from it, they watch as she goes through them before seemingly finding one and handing it to Yizhuo, who is seated closest to her. When the picture is passed to her Jimin stares at it, an odd feeling fills her.

You were smiling while an older woman held you, there was an innocent light in your eyes, a sight the group had never seen. Jimin passes it to Aeri once it becomes too much for her.

When the picture reaches the last person, Minjeong, your grandmother starts to speak. “This was Y/N and their mother when they were younger,” the older woman sighs heavily. “She had died in a house fire when Y/N was only ten, Y/N had watched as the house had crashed around their mother.”

They watch as your grandmother starts to cry, all wanting to comfort her, but not knowing how to since they were never comforted themselves.

“When my grandchild came to live with me they were a shell, but when you guys came into their life, they became alive once more.” She pauses.

“Thank you for letting them experience happiness once more.”

Jimin rushes out the house with her heart practically jumping out of her chest – she can’t breathe. The world seems to be closing in as sobs rush out of her.

The woman’s words repeat in her head like a broken record, it's practically mocking her as tears fall down her cheeks. Grief rushes through her body before settling in her chest, where it screams, begging to be let out. And Jimin wants it to, she’s begging for it to leave her body.

The weight is unbearable as it pounds on her chest, the sobs tenfold, her ears ring. She wants it to end.

She doesn’t know how long she's sobbing, or panicking, for, but it's long enough for the girls to join her and pull her into a hug. And when she calms she feels relief when she realizes they are crying too.

A few weeks pass by when they find themselves at the beach again. They shiver slightly as the cold bites at any exposed skin that it can.

“Here.” Yizhuo says as she passes each one their envelopes, her fingers rough with the bandages Minjeong had put on them recently.

Jimin stares at the envelope, tracing the ink that engraves your name. Looking up she sees the girls look at her and offers them a small smile.

“Ready?”

They all nod to Aeri’s question before leaning down to attach the papers to the lanterns. When they’re sure it’s snug enough to not fall, Minjeong picks it up and walks closer to the ocean, the others following her closely. Grabbing the lighter from Jimin she lights up the bottom of the lantern, when she feels it’s light enough she puts it up gently and lets the wind take it away.

They hold each other’s hands as they watch the lantern disappear. Aeri is the first to pull away, walking back to the car, and Minjeong follows after her. Yizhuo goes soon after with a pat on her back. Jimin waits until her mind can no longer imagine the white dot in the distance, breathing out; she feels the slight ache in her chest return. She breathes out once more as Minjeong had taught her and feels it dull just enough to whisper out her final words to you.

“Goodbye Y/N.”

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Hiiiii!!!:]

Request for Logan x reader where they carve pumpkins and watch scary movies, or maybe they do a halloween night out or something!!

(I hope this isnt too "late" to request fall/halloween stuff)

I had too many ideas so this is like a 4+1 type of fic lol it can be for any Logan and it's gender neutral! Request are still open!

The 4 times Logan didn't want to participate and the one time he did

1. Going to the pumpkin patch

You basically had to drag Logan to the pumpkin patch. You woke up so excited, the weather was finally a nice cool and crisp real autumn morning and it was supposed to stay nice all day, so naturally you thought it would be a good day to finally go get your pumpkins. Logan thought differently.

The pumpkin patch wasn't his idea of a good time. There were little ones running around, parents weren't really watching their children, and the couples that were there were all matching. You tried to get Logan to wear a matching outfit with you. "Come on, it'll be cute!" he rolled his eyes at your argument and wore his regular flannel instead.

At least flannel is correlated with fall.

You picked out the pumpkins the two of you were going to carve. When you asked for his opinion, you were met with a shrug and his typical response; "get whatever you want, babe." Usually, it was a nice response. It was his way of telling you that he could buy you whatever you wanted. If you were torn between two different colors in sweaters, he would say that because technically, he could buy you all of the damn sweaters, and he knows you'll look amazing in whatever. However, this wasn't exactly a good response when there were hundreds of pumpkins to pick from.

You showed him the pumpkins were finally decided and he grabbed them for you before carrying them to the little counter to check out. You sighed, feeling a little defeated? a little guilty? You weren't sure what the emotion was that you were feeling. You just felt bad for dragging him to do something he obviously hated so much.

2. Carving pumpkins

You know the pumpkin patch was a failure, but you wanted to carve your pumpkins asap. As Logan drove the two of you home, you were looking up pumpkin carving inspirations, and by the time you did get home, you were practically buzzing in your seat.

You jumped out of the truck and grabbed one of the pumpkins, Logan chuckled as he watched you zoom from the truck to the front door, seemingly forgetting that he had the keys. He could tell you were pouting due to the door being locked still, so he trudged out of the truck to the front door. "Move over, sweetheart," He mumbled and wrapped his arm around your waist to move you aside so he could unlock the door for you.

Once you got inside, you put the pumpkins on the table and kissed Logan on the cheek. "Do you want to help carve the pumpkins?" You asked with puppy eyes that you know make it difficult for him to say no to. He just walked past you, and for a second, you thought he was going to the bedroom, but then you heard rummaging from the kitchen. Looking behind you, you see Logan coming back to the dining room table with a couple of knives, spoons, and paper towels.

He sits in silence and rolls his eyes when you just stay standing there. "Are you helping or not? I'm not carving two damn pumpkins by myself, " He grumbled as he started cutting the bottom off of one of the pumpkins so he could start degutting it.

You snapped out of the shock and nodded, "Let me go get a plate I want to save some seeds" You go to grab a plate, but he stops you by showing you a plate, "Cut open your damn pumpkin, will ya?"

The two of you could feel a smile starting to form, and you sat next to him to start degutting your own pumpkin.

3. Watching a scary movie

You wanted to make up for the other day. You really thought Logan would enjoy the pumpkin patch more than he did. Halloween and autumn were your favorite time of year, and you wanted to enjoy it with your man, so you were determined to find something he enjoyed about the season, too.

You figured a movie date night would be perfect! There is no need to leave the house. There wasn't even a real need to change out of your pajamas. You made pizza from scratch and even made the popcorn on the stove top; everything was prepared, and all Logan had to do was pick out a movie for the two of you to watch.

He ended up picking the creepiest movie you'd ever seen.

He didn't think much of it. Honestly, he remembered the movie coming out decades ago and got excited to resee it. "Oh, I haven't seen this since it first came out" He tried to sound nonchalant, but the excitement was clear in his voice. You looked over his shoulder to see the movie he had picked, and you froze.

Something had to be fucking with you, out of all the things this was what made Logan excited? Now you loved horror movies, but Rosemary's Baby??? no. You just couldn't handle that movie, but dammit he was so excited. You swallowed and nodded stiffly. "Sure Lo. Sounds great" He smiled and put it on before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

Half the pizza is gone, the movie is about a quarter over and you were buried into Logan's shoulder. "Baby?" He asked with clear concern, "We can watch something else." He went to turn the movie off, but you jumped up before he could, "NO!" you let out a nervous giggle and shook your head, "It's just starting to get good, I really want to finish it"

You pulled him back to how he was and reached over to turn the movie back on, "You'll just have to protect me if I get too scared" you said teasingly, but you'd never been more serious before. He chuckled and held you closer than before. As the movie continued, you hid in his chest so he could enjoy his movie, and you could sleep tonight without having nightmares.

4. Going to get costumes

If you thought getting him to the pumpkin patch was hard, this was damn near impossible. You had to use threats, and he knows it's a bluff. It has to be a bluff. But he also knows you, and you are always true to your word, so he's too scared to risk it and just admits defeat.

He gets in the truck and drives you to the local Halloween store. You have him following you around like a puppy. He's honestly too afraid to lose you in this store. There's so many people and so much that they're selling. The store felt very claustrophobic to him, so he just sticks to you.

You pick out a couple's costume (it can be anything, but I like to think of a red riding hood and a wolf lol) and he groans aloud knowing you will have him wearing it for whatever party you drag him to.

As you check out, he listens to you ramble on about going to get tacos, and he just shakes his head and agrees to go get some. You're lucky he loves you so damn much

5. Passing out candy (the one time he was excited)

Today was finally Halloween and sadly you had to work until six, you told Logan the day before that you wouldn't be home in time for the beginning of trick or treating, but you will be home for the rest of it. You showed him exactly where the candy was since you had to hide it from him. "What do you mean you hid candy from me? I built this house there's nowhere to hide candy." He said, nearly pouting. It wasn't his fault he had a sweet tooth, and dammit he deserved some candy.

You clocked out as soon as you possibly could, and as you walked to your car, you went to text Logan, letting him know you were on your way home, but your phone was already dead. You sighed and decided to just head home before the streets got too busy with kids.

As you pull into your driveway, you can see the lights in the house on, and you can hear music playing. Confusing washes over you. With how Logan had been acting all month, you thought he would have the lights off and act like no one was home for trick or treating.

You walk to the door, and your heart swells with the sight in front of you. Logan hadn't noticed you walking in just yet. He was busy giving a toddler dressed up as Cinderella a sucker from the pumpkin bowl that had been sitting on the table completely empty this morning.

Not only did he put the candy meant to be passed out in a tacky looking pumpkin bowl, but he was also bent down to the kids' level to give them their candy. "Don't you look beautiful, princess!" He praised the little one who started giggling at the attention. As you walked closer to the man towering over the little ones, a gasp left your lips before you could think of holding it back. Logan Howlett, a man who acted like Halloween preparation, was torture was.... dressed up?

Tears were close to falling as he turned around. He acted as if nothing was going on, "Hey darlin' how was work?" He asked, closing the front door before walking over to you to kiss the crown of your head. "It-it was good." You stuttered slightly as you took his form in the costume fully in. "Your dressed up" you said, and he nodded "Well yeah, you bought us the costumes" He shrugged, "I thought you wanted me to be dressed up, the kids have been loving it but I did scare a toddler earlier" He frowned deeply "I gave them extra candy." He explained and looked at the bowl that was close to being empty, "Well I've been giving them all extra candy. They've been great costumes, though!" He tried to defend his actions, making you laugh.

"I'll go get my costume on, and you can tell me what I missed while we wait for me, kids." You said as you went to the bedroom to change. When you came out, his heart skipped a beat. To him, you were just so perfect.

For the rest of the night, he sat on the porch with you and filled you in on the costumes you'd missed earlier in the night.

That night, you realized something, Logan may not be excited to do many things that you loved to do, but he would do anything for you.

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

I think the taglist is updated? Lmk if it isn't and I'll add you! This taglist is just for Logan!! I'm planning on starting to write for Bucky again so lmk if I should make a taglist for him as well <3

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Black Widow Curse

Summary: The last thing Yelena expected was to see someone at her sister's grave and got them caught in her web.

Warning: MINIORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+, mention of Natasha's death, fighting, mention of past abuse, injuries, dubious consent (Yelena is drunk), sex (not in a lot of detail), angst, unhappy ending, toxic relationship, everyone is hurt and no one is okay

Word Count: 3.5k

When Yelena stepped out of her truck, she wasn’t expecting to see someone at her sister’s headstone. She was positive that no one knew where it was. With her hand on her gun, she approached the mysterious figure. Maybe they weren’t a threat, but after the past few failed assignments, she wasn’t sure who was a friend or an enemy. Suddenly, a blur of white and brown fur ran to the stranger. Her dog traitor began to lick your face, and your laughter began filling the quiet area. “You know,” you said. “I believe dogs can sense someone with good intentions,” you turned around to face her, but your hand still ran through Fanny’s fur. “So I’d appreciate it if you took your hand off your gun.”

Yelena kept it there and took in your features. You were younger than her, but not by much. Your clothes were baggy, slipping off your frame. Yelena could see tattoos that covered your arms. They seemed random, black swirls that decorated your skin. “Who are you?”

“I think I should be asking you that,” you dropped your hand. Fanny whined but walked back to her owner. “Wait,” your eyes narrowed at her, and you stood up from Natasha’s grave. “Your Yelena, Nat’s sister.” Knowing her name did not help your case, in the Blonde’s opinion. She took a step back.

“Who are you? I won’t ask again.” It took you a moment to respond, stunned by her sudden appearance.

“I was an Avenger with your sister,” you said. “We were friends.” Yelena hated that word. Avenger. It held much power and acted as a shield to hide behind and not face the past. Once again, she was face to face with someone who had more time with her sister. “Look, I heard about what happened with Clint,” you took another step forward. This time, Yelena removed her gun and pointed it at you. “Are you going to shoot me?” Yelena shrugged. “Why?”

Yelena wasn’t sure if she could give you a good answer, but did she need one? She was trained to kill and accept orders without a second thought. “Feels right,” she undid the safety. “I have nothing better to do.” You dared to laugh. That pissed her off. It seemed every day, the only emotion she felt was anger.

“You can’t kill me,” you simply said.

“Is that a challenge?” You smiled.

“Merely stating a fact,” you turned to face Natasha’s grave, kissed your fingers, and placed it on the stone. “It was nice to meet you, Yelena. I hope we meet again as friends.”

It happened rather suddenly. Intense cold washed over her, and her vision darkened. It felt similar to when she was blipped. As quickly as it happened, her warmth returned, and her vision came back.

She was standing alone. Fanny ran over to the spot you were standing in. The Akita circled something on the ground before lying down next to it. Yelena put her gun away and walked over to it. On the ground was a ripped photo strip with a girl with blue hair and another one with Blonde hair.

*

You hated parties. Even when you were with the Avengers, you loathed everyone that Tony threw. Full of fake politicians who did not care about the people they represented. You hated the stuffy outfits. Now, you stood in a rented suit at another party, not as a guest. The guest of honor, Hunter Sykes, hired you as private security. It was easy money, and you had rent and groceries to pay for.

So when Mr. Sykes led a beautiful woman back to his hotel room, you followed through the shadows. It was how you saw Yelena first, dressed in a red cocktail dress. She watched what floor the elevator stopped at and took the stairs to the 5th floor. Before she could exit the staircase, you pushed her up against the wall and emerged from the shadows. “Well, we meet again,” Relaxation washed over the Blonde. Before you could ask what her plan was, she pushed you on the chest, and you stumbled backward. It startled you, blinked a few times, and chased after her. A deja vu moment washed over you. Instead of chasing Yelena down a hallway, you were running after Natasha in a warehouse. The elder Black Widow got the best of you. Yelena wasn’t, but you wanted to play fairly. You kept your powers at bay even when they danced on your fingers. With a burst of speed, you caught up with her and grabbed her wrist. You ducked at the punch, but she was able to kick at you. You jumped back. The space allowed her to grab a knife on her thigh.

You wished Natasha could see this, and you wondered who she thought would win. The two sisters shared similarities, which made sense given their similar training. However, there was a slight difference. Natasha found fluidity in how she fought, as if there wasn’t a weight on top of her. Yelena was stiff. She was fighting to win, and you felt it in the punch to the side of your head.

“You are good,” you said, shaking the stars out of your vision. The Blonde rolled her eyes. “What? Am I not getting a compliment?”

“You are annoying,” she deadpanned. You would take it. Even though she was Natasha’s sister, you had a job to do, and she wasn’t going near Mr. Sykes. The fighting continued. You managed to get the knife out of her hand and threw it in the wall. You landed a powerful kick to her chest, she stumbled backward and then hit the window behind her. The glass creaked. Yelena shook her head to regain her footing, but you refused to give her time to recover. You sprinted towards her and pushed on her chest. The impact sent you both out the weakened window. You grabbed the ledge and ignored Yelena’s shout as she fell.

The sudden commotion caused Mr. Sykes to exit his hotel room. You pulled yourself up, removed the glass from your hair, and approached him. You hoped Yelena was okay.

*

“Fucking hell,” you mumbled and pulled out a frozen bag of peas. You slumped down on the couch with your ice pack against your head. After you pushed Yelena out of the window, you got Mr. Sykes out of the hotel with his regular security detail. If Yelena tried to kill him again, it was out of your hands. He paid you. The job was done; now it was time to rest and recover. You were pretty sure Yelena could punch harder than Natasha. The memory of your friend still hurts even though it was coming on two years after her death.

Taking off the peas, you grabbed the only photo in your apartment. It was of you and Natasha a few months after she and Steve broke you out of the RAFT. You and the Black Widow were curled up on the couch in a random safe house in Europe while a James Bond movie was playing on the TV. That night, she told you all about Yelena and the mission in Ohio. Steve sent you the picture of your new burner phone when you left them.

You weren’t angry at Natasha. When half of the population was blipped away, you were part of it. You could have stopped her if you were there, but Clint was right. Natasha was stubborn. Once her mind was made up, no one would stop her. Still, it was unfair. The birds were still singing, and the leaves would change. You weren’t angry at her. She was the greatest thing you’ve lost.

“For an Avenger, it was very easy to break in here,” you laughed as Yelena climbed through your fire escape window and sat beside you. At least she had the decency to close the window behind her.

“Are you here to kill me?” She shook your head and took the frozen vegetable.

“I would have killed you before I entered the apartment,” Fair enough. She placed the peas on the back of her neck. “That fight was so long. Do you have food?” You chuckled and stood up, wincing at the slight pain in your joints.

“I was about to order Chinese. Do you want some?” Yelena nodded. You walked to your fridge and took the menu off the side. Before you walked back to her, you saw the Blonde pick up the photo frame. She looked it over and put it back down. “Figure out what you want,” you handed her the menu. “I’m going to shower.” She looked at you and blinked a few times.

“You are going to leave me alone in your home.” Home was a strong word to describe this place. It was a place to keep food, shower, and sleep. You shrugged.

“As you said, if you wanted to kill me, you would have,” Maybe it was a little stupid to put your blind trust in someone you just threw out a window. But she was Natasha’s little sister. She had to be hurting as much as you were.

*

When you returned to your living room, Yelena was still in the same spot, except for the pea bag you assumed was back in the freezer. “What do you want?” Your question went unanswered. You weren’t sure if she heard you. Picking up the menu, you gently tapped her with it. That snapped her out of whatever fog her mind had created. “What do you want?” You asked again as if nothing happened.

“Fried rice and orange chicken,” you nodded and walked to the kitchen to order the food. You knew better to ask a Black Widow if they were okay. They ended up lying. Once the food was ordered, you rejoined Yelena on the couch with a few beers.

“Food should be here in 15 minutes,” you noticed the Blonde looking at you this time. Your shorts and simple T-shirt did not hide your tattoos. But she took a bear and slumped back.

“Your taste of beet is shit,” you opened your bottle and took a sip. It was shit.

“It was cheap. As you can see, I’m not rolling in the cash,” you gestured toward your apartment.

“Is Mr. Sykes not paying you well?” She asked.

“I don’t work for him. He hired me for that event because I was in the area,” you watched her nod out of the corner of her eye. “Did you kill him?”

“I wasn’t there to kill him,” your eyebrows shut up to your hairline in surprise. The Blonde chuckled. “I was hired to get the DNA from the woman he wanted to fuck. Job completed minus being thrown out the widow. That was good form.”

“I was trained by the best,” her face darkened slightly, but she recovered.

“By my sister?” She questioned. You knew this conversation was coming up. Sighing, you crossed your legs.

“Natasha was good, but I was trained before we met,” you smiled softly. This part of the story wasn’t bad. “I tried to kill her. I got a few hits in, but she threw me on my ass,” you managed to catch Yelena’s smile and let out a chuckle. You counted that as a small victory.

“Who trained you?” She asked. The doorbell rang, interrupting your story. You stood up, paid the delivery boy, and grabbed extra plates before you returned to the couch. You took your food and handed the bag to Yelena.

“I called him the Doctor,” you took a bite of your food. “Not sure what the endgame was before the Avengers killed him.”

“Where you born with-?” She gestured to the tattoos on your arms.

“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’. “It started with one on my shoulder, then grew and grew. I hated them at first, but they made me very popular with the ladies,” you wiggled your eyebrows at her. Again, she chuckled and smiled. It was a little louder than before—another victory. “Yelena,” you looked at her. “Why are you here?” She sighed.

“I had nowhere else to go.”

*

You weren’t sure how to describe this newly founded partnership between you and Yelena. She would end up at your apartment when she had nowhere else to go. Even if you weren’t there to greet her, you could come back to new food in your fridge and a freshly stocked first aid kit. When you managed to catch the Black Widow sneaking through your window, you would order takeout and watch whatever movie was on. She would never tell you that caused the gunshot wounds or bruises that you helped clean. The same was true for you. Yelena would grab the first aid kit and sit you down to clean your wounds.

There was an intimacy about it. An unspoken trust between you and her. Her hands were soft and warm against your skin as she patched a cut on your rib. Sometimes, you felt her fingers wander and trace the nearby tattoos. Similarly, you found yourself tracing faded scars. Goosebumps would form on her skin, and you would hear the slight hitch of her breath. You both would never call each other out. That was it. Slight touches, longing looks, two people lonely and desperate for something good. Nothing was acted on it. You could feel the tension every time she was in the room, but you were too afraid to scare her away.

*

It was strange to see the Blonde by your apartment door. Sometimes, you wondered if she knew you had a front door. “Did you forget how to climb through my window?” you teased, but your small jab was met with silence. That should have been your first clue that something was wrong. Sometimes, Yelena was quiet, but she always joked around with you.

You opened the door and held it open for her. She was quick to walk in, and when you closed the door, she leaned against the wood. Maybe if you weren’t exhausted and your mind wasn’t desperately calling for sleep, maybe if you recognized the month, it would have explained her behavior, but you missed all of it.

This was the first time you saw Yelena in about a month. You were busy with contracted work. You even answered the call when Sam asked for help. Then Carol. Then Strange. October blended into November, and now it was December. Again, it should have been a clue when she suddenly grabbed you by your shirt, pushed you against the door, and kissed you. The sound of your bag hitting the ground did not pull you apart. But the logical part of your brain needed to know what was going on. You placed your hands on her hips and flipped positions. “What,” you cleared your throat. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” she said. “Do you not want me to?” God, you wanted her to keep going. For many nights, that thought of her lips on yours kept you up at night with an ache between your legs, but you needed her to say it.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” You asked. She nodded and moved her hands behind your neck.

“Please,” she pleaded. “I need you to make me feel good.” All of your life, you were strong. You survived this power that was given to you and lived through the abuse at the hands of your parents. Won over the Doctor and climbed through his ranks. Then joined the Avengers. But when it came to Black Widows, you were weak to them. You folded. You crumpled. You dropped to your knees and submitted to them. So you kissed her, ignoring the taste of alcohol on her lips and the bloodshot look in her green eyes. You ignored all of it to satisfy a loneliness deep inside you.

You moved your hands under her thighs and lifted her. Her ankles locked behind your back. Your lips stayed together as you moved to your bedroom and gently laid her down.

You made good on your promise. Each moan, gasp, and whine that left her lips filled a hunger deep inside you. You were on wire with your hand between her legs and lips on her skin, whispering praise after praise.

“So fucking beautiful,” you mumbled. Her nails dug into your skin, leaving half-moon indents that you would look at later to remind yourself that this happened. You were the one that brought her over to the edge over and over again. She was crying out your name. Your tongue was tasting how sweet she was. You were addicted to her body, memorizing every spot that made her tick.

You only stopped when Yelena pushed you away. Her green eyes were hidden behind her eyelids. A thin layer of sweat covered her body, and she was warm when she cuddled against you. You basked in the warmth because when you woke up in the morning, she was gone. The bed was cold.

A week passed when she appeared at your apartment again. Yelena pushed you down on the couch and got between your legs. She made you cum with your hand twisted in her blonde hair. This time, the Black Widow disappeared for five days. She climbed through your window, and you pushed her against the wall so hard you thought you had left an indent there. She stayed for two days, and you cursed every surface of your apartment.

As she lay on your chest, basking in the afterglow, you wanted more. You wanted more than sex. Sometimes, you thought about dates you would take her on. What would she wear to a dinner and a movie? Or maybe you could splurge on a Broadway show. Whenever you asked, she wouldn’t answer. Instead, she would kiss you deeply, climb onto your lap, and make you forget what you requested.

She wrapped you around her finger, pushing you away and then bringing you close. It was an emotional roller coaster. Inspired by Yelena, you disappeared. You bounced between jobs and couches for two months to put distance between you and the Blonde.

But you found yourself at Natasha’s grave. While you cleaned up the weeds and straightened up the gifts that people left, it felt unfair how this place was where you found peace. You found solace in the presence of another Black Widow while you escaped the other. “I miss you, Nat,” you sighed. “I wish you were here.”

You weren’t surprised that she found you. You heard Fanny run up behind you and wiggle her way onto your lap. Smiling, you ran your fingers through her fun. “You have not been home,” Yelena said. You smiled sadly at her as she sat down next to you.

“Hasn’t felt like home for a while,” you answered. It felt suffocating. Everything in your apartment reminded you of Yelena and her absence. It drove you mad.

“Because of me?” Your silence was enough of an answer for her. “I am sorry.”

That was the thing about Black Widows. For every aspect of their life, they were forced to be used, forced to kill, and forced to seduce. Black Widows were used to being used, so it made sense it was all they knew.

Natasha was the same way. From the moment you joined the team, she poured herself into you, every deep-seated trauma to the blood in her ledger. Every time she wanted to give up, you were there. You were the life persever when the waves forced her down and threatened to to drown her. But she was never there when you needed saving or someone to hold your head above the water. She closed the door on you. Then she would come back around, apologize, and swear it would never happen again. That if you needed her, she would be there. She never was. It was a cycle that you couldn’t escape from. Now, another Black Widow had you trapped.

“I am sorry,” she said again and grabbed her hand. “I will do better. Be better,” she promised. “Please. I miss you.”

Yelena was different from her sister. You never crossed that line with Natasha, giving her access to your mind, body, and soul. But you were weak, and you missed her too. You loved someone unable to return your feelings. “I missed you too,” you admitted. I’ll come home.” She smiled, and you fell in love with her more.

You wondered what you did in your past life to be trapped in the web of two different Black Widows. Yelena kissed your cheek, then softly kissed your lips. You missed the taste of her—her natural taste mixed with her strawberry lip balm. That was the alluring characteristic of Black Widows. They weaved their webs and waited until an unlucky intruder got trapped. Widows injected their victims with poison until they were unable to move. They feasted on the weak, and you were weak to them.

[kisses-for-you]

saved - e. diaz

eddie diaz x gn!reader

summary: during a dangerous building fire rescue, eddie's fear of losing you forces him to confront his emotions and confess to you.

w/c: 1.4k

The sirens blared through the city streets as the 118 sped towards their next call. It was a routine day, or as routine as things got in their line of work. You sat in the back of the truck, checking your gear. Eddie sat across from you, his eyes following your movements even though he tried to remain focused on the call. You were close friends but lately, Eddie had started considering the fact that maybe his feelings went beyond just a simple friendship. He'd pushed them down, convinced that it was just the stress of the job playing tricks on his heart.

But today felt different. The air in the truck was heavy, and something about this call gave Eddie a bad feeling. "You okay, Eddie?" you asked, catching him staring.

He blinked, snapping back to reality. "Yeah, I'm good. You?"

You nodded, flashing him that reassuring smile you always gave when you were heading into dangerous situations. "Yeah, I’m ready. Let's do this."

The call had come in about a building fire, one of the worst you'd seen in weeks. Several floors were already engulfed, and a group of people was trapped inside. As the truck came to a halt, you jumped out and joined the rest of the team. The thick smoke loomed over you, the fire roaring louder than usual. Bobby gave quick orders. You and Eddie were paired up, as usual. You seemed to work best together, always knowing the other's moves before you made them.

"Let's be quick about this," Bobby said, his voice firm over the comms. "We’ve got limited time before the structure’s compromised. Stay together."

Inside, the heat was suffocating, even with your gear. Flames lit up the way and the smoke was so thick that it was hard to see more than a few feet ahead. Your radios crackled with updates from the rest of the team, but Eddie's focus was solely on keeping you in his line of sight. Every time you moved forward, he was right there, close behind, watching your back. He watched you as you both cleared each room, calling out for survivors, his heart tightening with each passing second. Every time you turned a corner, his breath caught in his throat. It wasn't just the fire that made him nervous — it was the thought of losing you.

You found the first survivor on the second floor, a young woman huddled in a corner, clutching her child. You and Eddie worked together to get them out, Buck and Chim leading them to exit. But once you reached the third floor, things started to spiral.

The structure groaned above you, the fire spreading faster than anticipated. Smoke filled the air, making it difficult to see. As you approached the next room, you took the lead, pushing through a stubborn door.

"Y/N, wait!" Eddie called, sensing something wrong.

But it was too late. The moment you stepped into the room, the ceiling above you gave way. Eddie lunged forward, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you back just as debris crashed down, narrowly missing you. For a second, time stood still. You were both on the floor, coughing from the smoke, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asked, his voice tight, fear flashing in his eyes as he held your arm a little longer than necessary. You coughed, your breath labored but nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. That was close."

Too close, Eddie thought. His chest ached at the sight of you, the weight of what almost happened crashing down on him.

As you pulled yourselves up and continued the search, the intensity of the fire grew. You found two more survivors, an elderly couple, but the building's groans became more frequent and louder. Bobby’s voice came through the radio, urgency clear in his tone.

"Get out now! The building’s coming down!"

But you weren't done. There were still reports of one more person trapped on the top floor. Eddie and you exchanged a look, both knowing what you had to do. "Eddie, we don't have time," you warned, but your tone was conflicted. You knew you didn't have time to go but you also didn't want Eddie to do it alone.

Eddie shook his head. "I'm not leaving anyone behind. You can go. I'll catch up."

You responded, "I'm not leaving you." Your words hit Eddie like a punch to the gut; you had said that to each other countless times, but it felt different now. Eddie’s heart pounded as he led the way up the stairs, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say to you but couldn’t.

The top floor was a maze of flames, the heat so intense it was almost unbearable. You found the last survivor, an older man unconscious near a window. You moved to help him, and that's when it happened. The floor beneath you and the man gave way. Eddie barely had time to register the crash before he saw you go down with the collapsing floor, the man you were helping tumbling with you.

"Y/N!" Eddie screamed, panic flooding his system.

He rushed to the edge, looking down to see you trapped beneath rubble, barely conscious. You were pinned, the fire inching closer. Without thinking, Eddie jumped down to you, ignoring the pain that shot through his leg when he landed. His hands moved frantically, trying to free you from the debris.

"Eddie…" Your voice was weak, your eyelids fluttering. "You need to go. You can't…"

"I'm not leaving you," Eddie growled, his heart pounding. "I can't lose you, Y/N. I won't."

You coughed again, trying to speak, but the smoke was too thick. Eddie worked faster, his muscles straining as he lifted a beam off your legs. You couldn't help but cry out in pain as the pressure was lifted off your legs.

Eddie winced at the sound of your pain, but he didn't stop. He wouldn't stop until you were safe. His breathing was ragged, his limbs shaking from the exertion, but the fire was closing in, and he knew you didn't have much time. Bobby's voice crackled through his radio again, more urgent this time.

"Eddie! What's your status? The building's going to collapse!"

Eddie glanced up, seeing the flames creeping closer. All he cared about was you. He'd made a promise, to himself and to you, that he'd always have your back. Leaving you wasn't an option. With a final grunt, Eddie freed you, pulling you into his arms. "Hold on, Y/N, I've got you," he whispered, though the words felt more like a prayer.

You were barely conscious, your head resting against his chest as he stood, the weight of both you and the collapsing building pressing down on him. Every second counted. He hoisted you over his shoulder and made a break for the stairs, pain radiating through his leg but ignored in favor of saving you.

Somehow, you made it out. Eddie carried you through the flames, refusing to stop until you were out of the building. The moment you burst through the doors and into the open air, Eddie collapsed to his knees, still holding you tightly. The rest of the team rushed to you, paramedics quickly taking over, but Eddie didn't let go of your hand.

As you laid on the gurney, oxygen mask over your face, you opened your eyes just enough to look at Eddie. Your voice was barely a whisper when you spoke. "You saved me."

Eddie shook his head, his emotions finally spilling over. "You saved me, Y/N. Every day, you save me. I-" He paused, his heart pounding in his chest. "I love you. I've loved you for a long time, and I can't… I can't keep pretending like I don't."

Your eyes softened, a tear slipping down your cheek. You squeezed his hand, your grip weak but firm enough to let him know you felt the same. "I love you too, Eddie. I always have."

The weight of those words, so long unsaid, lifted something in Eddie's heart. For the first time in a long time, despite the chaos around, he felt a sense of peace. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, promising himself that from now on, he would never let you go.

Because in this world, there are no guarantees for a tomorrow. And Eddie Diaz wasn't going to waste another second pretending his heart didn’t belong to you.

911 masterlist

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits: Part 10 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Life felt completely up in the air. It was as exciting as it was anxiety-ridden. The BMW remained at Joel’s house overnight, and even long after you’d gotten home after your romantic romp in the lake, jealousy and insecurity ate away at your core - not to mention every other heightened emotion you could think that you had no idea what to do with.

He said he wanted this, you reminded yourself. Still, there was a looming dark cloud over your inner paradise in the form of the legal situation between Joel and Cecille. Should she try to convince him to take her back, maybe she would be enticing enough for him to agree to it. After all, this wasn’t some high school couple that was simply calling it quits. This was a marriage.

Your racing thoughts disallowed you to have a solid night’s sleep. Each time you awoke you took a glance out the window to see the car beside Joel’s truck. It was torture. When the morning finally did come, you were pleased to see Cicille enter her vehicle ahead of Joel. The question was, was she going to work, or was she leaving for good?

Your phone went off soon after, and you barricaded yourself in your room to take Joel’s call.

“Hey.” The one word practically came out as a sigh of relief.

“Hey.” Joel cleared his throat, “Look, I’m uh, I’m going golfing with your father after work.”

“Oh, yeah,” you remembered, “That was today huh?”

“Yeah.” He paused, “And then I’m going to get a room somewhere for the night.”

“Like a hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“So, is um… is Cecille staying there permanently then?”

“Honestly, things are a bit of a mess, and there’s nothing legally keeping her from being there. She loves to make my life a hell of a lot more difficult when it’s convenient for her, hence why this thing is ending the way it is.”

“I’m sorry.” You sighed.

“I shouldn’t even be venting all that out to you,” Joel went on. “But, I just wanted to let you know that I wasn’t going to be at the house tonight.”

It felt like a crushing blow that you were potentially losing Joel as a neighbor. Having him right next door was exciting and fun. Sneaking back and forth had been an addicting addition to the relationship. To have his ex-wife appearing out of the blue to take the house back over felt unfair, if their verbal agreement had stated otherwise.

“What hotel are you staying at?”

“I have to make some calls on my lunch break,” he explained. “And, uh… if you’re around I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I’m around,” you explained with a nod, though you knew he couldn’t see the gesture.

Joel hesitated before speaking again. “Thanks for… understanding. I’m sorry for how this all must seem from your point of view.”

“I trust you,” you said to him. “Divorces happen and from what I’ve heard through the grapevine they’re rarely easy.” You paused a second before adding, “I’m here for you.”

“Thanks.” Joel sighed heavily on the other end of the line, “I, uh… I’m really lucky to have you, honey.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Despite all the heavy feelings, a smile still formed on your face.

“I’ll text ya the name of the hotel this afternoon.”

“Okay.”

“I, uh, I can’t wait to see ya. I know it’s only been since last night but I got used to you sleeping next to me.”

Your heart went from a steady beat to outright pounding in your chest. “I loved waking up next to you.” And I fucking love you!  You wanted to shout it. You wanted to cry as you told him. The thought of it alone made you want to burst into tears but you didn’t know why. The feelings were so intense and the circumstances were so up in the air that it left you feeling a bit tossed in all directions. It was overwhelming.

“Well, if you’ll have me, tomorrow morning you will.” Pep returned to his voice as he spoke those words.

“You know by now that I’ll gladly have you.”

“Okay, then,” Joel said, “It’s a date.”

That was enough to hold you over. While the long term held some serious questions, the short term had you back to walking on air. Spending the night at a hotel with Joel already felt like a little slice of heaven. No one would know where you were. No one would be there to potentially interrupt or catch you. In your mind, you could play house again and act in your fantasy world like you were husband and wife.

When you made your way back downstairs to see your mother filling her travel coffee mug, you smiled. “I can make the pasta salad for the picnic tomorrow,” you offered, “And whatever other appetizers will hold overnight. Oh, and I’ll set up the volleyball net this afternoon. Dad’s going golfing, I think.”

“Thank you,” you mother said with a smile. “That would be great.”

“Hey, I’m not going to be home tonight, but I promise I’ll be back for the picnic.”

“You’re staying out?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Holly’s?”

“Mm-hmm.”

You mother squinted her eyes. “Is there… something you’re not telling me?” She asked with playful accusation.

“Like what?”

“Well… you barely stay at this house anymore,” she began, putting a hand up before you could protest,” And it’s fine, you’re a young woman, you can do as you please. But, as your mom, of course I’m a little curious.”

Crap. Where was she going with this?

“Are you in some kind of secret relationship?”

“Mom…” You shook your head.

“With some guy… or even with Holly?”

Your eyes bugged out of your head and you began to laugh. “What? Holly’s been my best friend since middle school.”

“It happens.” She shrugged, making you laugh further. It was a relief that she thought of Holly before Joel, though you knew sooner or later you would have to tell her the truth.

“No,” you giggled now, “I can’t wait to tell her you said that.”

“Oh, don’t make fun of me,” she said, shaking her head, “You girls always teamed up on us moms growing up.”

“Some things never change,” you teased, laughing out loud. In the lighthearted nature of your talk, you almost wanted to blurt out the truth and tell her you were in love with Joel. In your heart, you knew a part of her wouldn’t judge, but the other rational part of her would break down every reason why getting involved with him was a terrible idea - and you didn’t need that right then. Still, you decided to be half honest with your mother. “I am seeing someone,” you admitted.

“I knew it.”

You chuckled, “But, I didn’t want to put anyone in an awkward position so I kept pretending I was staying over at Holly’s”

“Who is he? Did you meet him at school? What was his major?”

“It’s still a bit new,” you explained, “But I really… really like him. A lot.”

Your mom’s face seemed to glow. “You’ve never said that about anyone… maybe your high school boyfriend, but…” She shook her head, “Oh, I can’t wait to meet him!”

You already have. A smile lingered on your face but you could feel how forced it was from the tense feeling in your cheeks.

“You will,” you explained, “I promise. In time. I just… maybe don’t tell Dad. It’s a weird, in-between time I’m in. I feel like an adult and a kid at the same time and I’m living with you guys and-”

“I get it,” your mother cut you off, “I’ll keep it between us. I’m glad you’ve met someone that makes you… glow.” She grinned, “I knew it. I knew something was different. He treats you nice?”

“Yes,” you said right away, “Very nice. He’s a gentleman. I think you and Dad have set a good example of what to look for in a relationship.” You winked and decided to butter her up a bit - not that it wasn’t true; but sucking up a little wouldn’t hurt once she found out that Joel Miller was your secret lover.

“Your father and I love each other very much,” she concluded, capping her coffee. Your mother smiled and pointed at you, “He’s a good man.”

“And a great Dad.” You exchanged a kiss on the cheek, “And of course you’re a great mom.”

“Stop trying to make me cry before work.” She cupped your face, “My baby is growing up. And it’s hurting me and making me smile all at once.”

You smiled back at her, exchanged another hug and then parted ways for the day. You spent your day cooking and did a little baking before whipping out all of the yard games for the following afternoon. The volleyball net was a little frustrating to set up alone, but you figured it out. And then you followed with setting up cornhole, staking in a set up for horseshoes and even dragging out a set of folding tables so everything was more or less ready for Saturday.

“Hey!” Joel’s voice caught your attention unexpectedly from next door later in the day.

You whipped around with a smile and had the urge to run across the yard to greet him. You played it cool, of course and smiled, staring at him with your hands on your hips.

“Hey!” You shouted back.

“Straighten out those horseshoe pits! They’re cooked!” Joel smiled wide and winked.

You laughed and bit your bottom lip. “Maybe you should come over and straighten them out.”

“I can’t,” he motioned like he was hitting a golf ball, “I’m play golf with my girlfriend’s father.”

He said that loud enough for anyone to hear, but you realized that no one was home to even question it. It made you laugh out loud.

“Keep you ball out of the rough,” you shouted through cupped hands.

Joel began to laugh out loud. He smirked and put his hands out the sides. “No promises.”

Fuck. You wanted to kiss him. No, you wanted to pounce on him.

“Check your phone in about thirty seconds.”

“Okay.”

“Your dad comped me a room on the golf course,” he went on with a shrug, “Felt bad about what’s been going on.”

“He what?”

“I hope that’s okay,” Joel added.

“Oh, yeah…” You hadn’t realized your shock had translated into some form of disapproval, “Of course that’s fine. That’s a really nice hotel.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, “Check in is any time after four. I’ll still be playing then, but you can go whenever you’d like.”

“Do I just use your name?”

“I know it’s probably risky but I gave both of ours.”

You smiled. “Well, I better go inside and freshen up then. I’ve been sweating out here the last hour.”

Joel looked around in all directions before making the trek over to your yard. Your heart rate began to pick up again and you took just a few, nearly-frozen steps toward him. When he reached where you stood he asked, “When do they get home?”

“I, um.. well-”

“Do you have any butter I can borrow?” Joel smiled playfully, reminiscent of the first conversation you’d had together on the back step.

You smiled back and swallowed hard. “I have whatever you need.”

“Is there time?” he asked more directly, looking you in the eye.

“There’s time,” you whispered back, as if someone might hear you.

Joel looked like he wanted to pull you against him and kiss you; but he didn’t. He let out a deep breath, holding your eye contact until you led him inside the back door a step behind you. When you got inside it was as if he had been overseas at war. You didn’t know if you pulled him to you, or he pulled you to him, but your lips crashed against one another’s.

Wondering if you could get caught was the farthest thing from your mind when your hand was tangled in Joel’s wavy hair. He held you with such force and kissed you with such ferocity that you couldn’t hold back what you were feeling.

“I love you,” you gasped in between kisses, “Fuck, I love you, Joel.”

Joel’s tongue dominated yours harder and you only separated from him because you felt like you couldn’t breathe. He let out a gasping breath of his own and let out several deep breaths into your open mouth.

“I love you, too, honey.” He swallowed hard, pecked your lips and you kissed on another more firmly. Joel’s hand lingered on the side of your face. “I fucking love you.”

CLICK HERE FOR PART 11

@pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @writlingerz @vickie5446 @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[katzske]

Thoughts on Earthspark Season 2 (first half)

Spoiler Free:

I must admit I’m dissatisfied.

The animation and rendering definitely looks cheaper. Sometimes it feels like frames are missing, animations not polished, scenes not fully rendered. 2d and 3d poorly blends. It’s quite noticeable unfortunately. Characters also do the TFP Megatron stare now.

That being said, time was taken to revisit old models of characters and give them a new appearance. (4 i’ve noticed) It makes sense given a lot has changed during one year time skip.

The writing often feels either like exposition dumping or naruto filler episodes. I was never at the edge of my seat even during the climax. I ended up skipping through episodes due to the lack of relevant plot information.

Something ES managed to maintain were carefully composed shots that make great still images. While that’s nice for screenshots and redraws, I also feel like it’s the only unique aspect of ES’ animation style that remained. The rest, as previously mentioned, has lost quality.

Character Details I’ve noticed and want to talk about (spoilers ahead)

half of season 2 part 1 is filler. optimus trailer episode, great america with cosmos, a pachycephalosaurus-truck fighting mushrooms, hashtag taking ten years to dispose of hard drives…. each episode did have a few minutes of either cute or important moments. but the majority is a waste of time.

I was hoping that we would learn more about the decepticons. now that they’re free, what are they up to? how are their dynamics? how did season 1 finale change their perception on things? would they try to convince the terrans THEY are the good guys? nothing like that though.

There is no satisfying character development for starscream. ES Starscream was perfect to explore a more neutral version of him, who does not do bad things out of pleasure, but due to necessity; following his desire to be free. In the show he mentions he wanted to get rid of his oppressors (in his eyes autobots and humans), but a real “bruh” moment was when he told Hashtag the only reason he opened up to her last time was to tell her “take care of yourself first”. It completely disregards the fact he came to help in the season 1 finale after reflecting on Hashtags words. It also aggravates me that the writing could have been a very easy fix. “hey i’m not being selfish by destroying this town. im doing this for the decepticons, we have lived under the control of the autobots and then of humans. this needs to stop, we deserve freedom and i will do anything it takes.”

the show managed to establish some friction between starscream and shockwave but for deception standards it was very tame. overall i think it was written okay; he purposely let the Terrans escape with the fragments, and he bailed on Starscream once he went bonkers. I hope that he gets to be a Decepticon leader in the second half; i don’t think we have seen that in any TF TV show before. i also like that his antennae and eye color give away his emotions now.

i feel like the autobots are treated even worse than the decepticons this season ngl. they merely exist; and when they do have the spotlight it’s often for comedy.

why the fuck did shockwave not wait for hashtag to just dump the hard drives and leave. if someone walked up to me yelling “give me your trashbag” as i’m trying to dispose of it i’d be weirded out too lol.

i hope the chaos terrans don’t return. aftermath imo was, plot wise, redundant. spitfire at least was interesting and had an impact.

i wish there were more interesting fights like in season 1 instead of, oh no they’re hitting the trailer with sticks, oh no we are an abomination of dinosaur and vehicle for what feels like 15mins straight. i miss seeing soundwave slay.

[slutforfictionalwomen]

Supposed to be a thrill

Kinktober day 1

Rhea Ripley x Fem Reader

Main kinks: Bondage, bloodkink, knife kink.

Word count: 1,6K

Summary: Rhea takes Reader Halloween shopping. What Reader doesn't know is that Rhea has entirely planned out a surprise for when they get home.

Warnings: Slight manipulation, smut, knife play, blood play, bondage, cunnilingus, strap on use, pet names. (Please tell me if I missed anything)

POV Reader

Excitedly, I get into Rhea's black truck as she told me to. I check my pulse while waiting for Rhea to finish up, it's high. This is something I've been looking forward to for so long, getting Halloween decorations with my dark, older girlfriend who is the love of my life.

"You seem tense, baby," Rhea notices as she hops onto the driver's seat. As always, I squirm at the nickname and don't bother to hide the blush on my face.

"Just excited. This is my first full Halloween with my favourite person." I cannot hold back the wide smile on my face. Luckily, this woman of my dreams knows how deeply I feel things. With all the before, I've had to keep in the emotions I felt. With Rhea, I can feel when I feel and stare blank when I don't have any emotions to show on my face at all.

I hear the engine of the car start. Rhea nods, with one of those smiles that seem to make time stop. "I'm glad to hear that, darling. Just don't get your heart too worked up, I know how overwhelming things can be for you." We drive away from our house, to Rhea's favourite shop for Halloween stuff. That's what she said, at least.

About fifteen minutes later, we walk into a theme shop that has almost entirely been transformed into a Halloween shop. "I love this so much," I say wide eyed.

"Well, go ahead and take a look." That's how we get started, looking for anything fitting our spooky aesthetic. At some point, Rhea leaves my side for a few minutes, saying she's getting a particular object that she knows they sell here, but it's a surprise.

When we get home, we each put down a paper bag full of stuff. It's around eight pm, we ate food at a place on the way home. I still don't know what Rhea bought as a surprise, she told me to go to the car when she paid. "Can I now know what you got?"

Rhea looks me up and down as I'm sitting on the table. "No princess, that's for later. Go take a shower first." She takes a step forward, pressing a loving kiss on my head. I agree to taking a shower, but I'm still curious.

After a hot everything-shower during which I sung my heart out to my favourite songs, I have completely forgotten about the surprise. I get into some comfy clothes in our bedroom. I'm putting on a hoodie when I hear the light switching off and our LED light being plugged in. "Well baby, I see you've put on some clothes, but it's time to take them off for me again."

I didn't hear Rhea coming in, but now she's speaking in her dominant voice, which immediately makes me react. I pull the hoodie back over my head. As soon as it's on the floor, Rhea's behind me tying a blindfold over my eyes. "Rhea, what is this?" Before I know, I'm being thrown onto the bed.

"Time for your suprise," she says with a ring in her voice, feigning innocence. "Do you remember the rules?"

Of course I do. Speak only when spoken to, use mistress to adres her, safeword when needed. "Yes, mistress."

"Such a good little girl." Her hands are on my body, ripping off my shirt and underwear. "Are you gonna be a nice girl for me? Are you gonna make me proud?"

Before I can answer, she collapses her lips into mine. She's so rough but loving at the same time. I reach my hands up to pull her closer, but she is faster and pushes my wrists above my head with one hand. Abruptly, she pulls away. I reach for her, but I can't feel her anywhere.

"Oh baby, I'm just getting some stuff to start the fun." I hear her voice quite far away, on the other side of the room. Though a few seconds later, a rope is being wrapped around my arm. I feel her lips close to my ear. "I'm going to spread you out nicely so I can see your entire bare body, even that pretty pussy of yours. Or should I say mine? We all know who that pussy belongs to, and every other part of your body."

"I'm yours mistress," I say, falling into subspace. Both my ankles and wrists are being tied to each corner of the bed, spreading me out like she said she was going to do. When she's done, she climbs up my body to kiss me.

"Yes princess, you're mine." She kisses down my body, stopping right above my desperate heat. I groan in frustration. "Shh baby. You're so wet for me, so needy. But I have one more little surprise for you." She gives my pussy a quick kiss, but immediately shifts on the bed.

A few seconds later, something sharp is pressed onto my inner thigh. It doesn't hurt, but I flinch at the feeling. "Easy baby, it's just a pretty little play knife. Actually, it's not, but it's our play knife now, only for you. I wish you could see how pretty the design is, but that would spoil the fun, wouldn't it?"

I moan when she presses it down a bit harder. It doesn't slice the skin, but it hurts a bit more now. I can feel it is sharp, but I kind of like that. "Are you going to let me use this on you? Are you gonna be my good girl?" Rhea's dominant voice is low and sultry, she takes away the knife from my thigh.

"Yes, mistress." As soon as the words leave my mouth, hers is on my pussy. I feel metal pressing against my throat, which makes me yelp and try to stay as still as possible. Her tongue flattens and laps my clit with passion, if it wasn't for the knife against my throat I would be bucking my hips up into her face.

"Hmm do you want me to make you come? You're doing so well, darling." Her words make me whine loudly. Her knife leaves my throat again, but also her lips leave my body.

"Mistresssss," I pout. I feel her fingers on my nipples, teasing my body.

"You didn't think I was just gonna let you come, did you?" She chuckles. "Dumb baby. You have to earn that, and I know just the right way." She yanks on one of the ropes when I shift my body and presses the tip of the knife into the skin of my left thigh. "Can I mark you? Just two letters, just my initials. I'll then let you come, I promise."

I'm a bit afraid of it, but I do really want to come. I know it's manipulative, but I also know that she cares about me. She'll make sure nothing bad happens to the wound. "Okay, mistress," I answer with a small voice.

"Oh princess, I love you so much." She leans down to kiss me, making me taste myself. When she pulls away, her knife is back on my thigh. I yelp when I feel the first slice.

"Rhea!" The second slice comes fast after my slip out. I know I have to call her by her title, but I couldn't help it. I try not to act up, but I cannot help the tears rolling down my cheeks. The second 'R' is now being carved into my inner thigh.

"That's a good baby!" Immediately after the praise, her tongue meets my thigh, lapping up the droplets of blood. I hear how she hums, I know she's a menace, but I kind of love that about her. Within mere seconds, her tongue is back on my bundle of nerves.

Her lips wrap around my clit, sucking on it. That's when my legs start to tremble uncontrollably. The knifeplay has worked me up more than I knew, and I'm not far away from the edge.

When I think I can't hold it anymore, I know I have to ask whether I can if I don't want to be punished. "Please mistress, can I come?"

For a few seconds, I don't get an answer, and then I finally hear her voice. "Come for me, baby." It is all that it takes for my orgasm to rip through me. I whine out and yank on my ropes, but of course they won't budge.

I feel how my legs are being freed, but not for long. "You didn't think it was over yet, did you?" Rhea chuckles as she ties the ropes of my ankels up to where my wrists are tied, so I'm tied in her famous 'Pretzel pin'.

For a few seconds I don't feel her contact, but then her fingers are on my sensitive clit. All of a sudden, a strap is being pushed inside of me. "Mistress!" I scream as she immediately starts a pounding pace.

It feels really good, but again, tears start to roll down my cheeks. I feel how she wipes them away with the hand that isn't on my hip, and then uses that same hand to circle my clit with her fingers.

Her hips meet my thigh with every hard, fast, deep thrust. It almost hurts, but it feels so good. I know I'm making an awful lot of noise, but I can't bother to even try keeping it down.

When I start to yank on my ropes again, Rhea already knows what's going on. She knows how overstimulated I am, and how badly I want to finish.

"Come for me like the filthy slut you are."

[starfxkrinc]

tp!jj comforting Sweetpea over her mama but he acc just using it as an excuse to get in her pants

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"she's just such a fucking bitch. god you'd think she hates me for being born."

another fight. same shit, nothing new and you found yourself going to jj again. the two of you were cramped in his truck, having gone for a 'drive' which was really him smoking you out in some old field after a snack run.

you couldn't believe you were at a point in your life where your closest friend was the 41 year old neighbor you'd been fucking. but he he listens, he relates in a way. who else are you supposed to go to?

"nah, it's not you. trust me it's never actually about you. s'like they get these fuckin ideas that they'd be movie stars or some shit if it weren't you." he takes a drag, circling a hand around your ankle with a soft tug, "fact is, they'd be fucked with or without us."

letting out a soft hum, you reach out for the joint, but jj just takes another long pull and stubs it out before tugging you again so you're laid flat in the bed of his truck.

sometimes you wish you and jj could just talk. nothing else. or at least you could just sit in silence. just for a little.

instead he climbs over you, pushing the smoke into your lungs the second your lips connect.

"do we always have to do this?" you whimper into his mouth, breath hitching when his hands slide up your ribs.

"i'll stop if you want. m'just tryna make you feel better."

you kiss him back, ignoring the sick twist in your gut as he tugs down your already damp panties. for now you could forget, you could let him draw out all the pain with his fingers as they slide between your dewy lips.

"good?" jj crooks his fingers up, doing his best to stay soft as he searches your that sweet treasure inside.

"mhm," gentle waves of pleasure tighten in your stomach when he strokes against your swollen clit.

maybe it's the tenderness, maybe it't the weed, maybe it's just the aftermath of the night. but you're crying, soft whimpering sniffles that has him kissing the tears off your cheeks.

everythings sensitive. mind, body and emotions, "i wish you were my dad."

with a soft tremor you cum, and jj swallows up your cries with one last kiss.

"i know."